THE 


LIGHT     OF    ASIA; 

OR, 

The  Great  renunciation 

(MAHABHINISHKRAMANA). 

BEING 

Zbc  %itc  an&  ZcacbiwQ  ot  Gautamat 

5V*rmce  of  ^nt>ia  anh  3=ounber  of  SBubbl^ism 
(as   told   in   verse   by  an   INDIAN    BUDDHIST). 

BY 

EDWIN  ARNOLD,  M.A. 


NEW  YORK 

HOME    BOOK    COMPANY 
45    Vesey    Street 


PREFACE. 


In  the  following  Poem  I  have  sought,  by 
the  medium  of  an  imaginary  Buddhist  votary, 
to  depict  the  life  and  character  and  indicate 
the  philosophy  of  that  noble  hero  and  re- 
former, Prince  Gautama  of  India,  the  founder 
of  Buddhism. 

A  generation  ago  little  or  nothing  was  known 
in  Europe  of  this  great  faith  of  Asia,  which 
had  nevertheless  existed  during  twenty-four 
centuries,  and  at  this  day  surpasses,  in  the 
number  of  its  followers  and  the  area  of  its 
prevalence,  any  other  form  of  creed.  Four 
hundred  and  seventy  millions  of  our  race  live 
and  die  in  the  tenets  of  Gautama;  and  the 
spiritual  dominions  of  this  ancient  teacher  ex- 
tend, at  the  present  time,  from  Xepaul  and 
Ceylon  over  the  whole  Eastern  Peninsula  to 
China,  Japan,  Thibet,  Central  Asia,  Siberia, 
and  even  Swedish  Lapland.  India  itself  might 
fairly  be  included  in  this   magnificent  empire 


2047365 


6  {preface. 

of  belief,  for  though  the  profession  of  Bud- 
dhism has  for  the  most  part  passed  away  from 
the  land  of  its  birth,  the  mark  of  Gautama's 
sublime  teaching  is  stamped  ineffaceably  upon 
modern  Brahmanism,  and  the  most  character- 
istic habits  and  convictions  of  the  Hindus  are 
clearly  due  to  the  benign  influence  of  Buddha's 
precepts.  More  than  a  third  of  mankind, 
therefore,  owe  their  moral  and  religious  ideas 
to  this  illustrious  prince,  whose  personality, 
though  imperfectly  revealed  in  the  existing 
sources  of  information,  cannot  but  appear  the 
highest,  gentlest,  holiest,  and  most  beneficent, 
with  one  exception,  in  the  history  of  Thought. 
Discordant  in  frequent  particulars,  and  sorely 
overlaid  by  corruptions,  inventions,  and  mis- 
conceptions, the  Buddhistical  books  yet  agree  in 
the  one  point  of  recording  nothing — no  single 
act  or  word — which  mars  the  perfect  purity 
and  tenderness  of  this  Indian  teacher,  who 
united  the  truest  princely  qualities  with  the 
intellect  of  a  sage  and  the  passionate  devotion 
of  a  martyr.  Even  M.  Barthelemy  St.  Hilaire, 
totally  misjudging,  as  he  does,  many  points  of 
Buddhism,  is  well  cited  by  Professor  Max 
Miiller  as  saying  of  Prince  Siddartha,  "  Sa  vie 
n'a  point  de   tache.     Son   constant  heroisme 


preface,  7 

egale  sa  conviction ;  et  si  la  theorie  qu'il  pre- 
conise  est  fausse,  les  exemples  personnels  qu'il 
donne  sont  irreprochables.  II  est  le  modele 
acheve  de  toutes  les  vertus  qu'il  preche ;  son 
abnegation,  sa  charite,  son  inalterable  douceur 
ne  se  dementent  point  un  seul  instant.  ...  II 
prepare  silencieusement  sa  doctrine  par  six 
annees  de  retraite  et  de  meditation ;  il  la  pro- 
page  par  la  seule  puissance  de  la  parole  et  de 
la  persuasion  pendant  plus  d'un  demi-siecle, 
et  quand  il  meurt  entre  les  bras  de  ses  dis- 
ciples, c'est  avec  la  s^renite  d'un  sage  qui  a 
pratique  le  bien  toute  sa  vie,  et  qui  est  assure 
d'avoir  trouve  le  vrai."  To  Gautama  has 
consequently  been  given  this  stupendous  con- 
quest of  humanity ;  and — though  he  discoun- 
tenanced ritual,  and  declared  himself,  even 
when  on  the  threshold  of  Nirvana,  to  be  only 
what  all  other  men  might  become — the  love 
and  gratitude  of  Asia,  disobeying  his  mandate, 
have  given  him  fervent  worship.  Forests  of 
flowers  are  daily  laid  upon  his  stainless  shrines, 
and  countless  millions  of  lips  daily  repeat  the 
formula,  "  I  take  refuge  in  Buddha  !  " 

The  Buddha  of  this  poem — if,  as  need  not 
be  doubted,  he  really  existed — was  born  on 
the  borders  of  Nepaul,  about  620  b.  c,  and 


8  preface. 

died  about  543  b.  c.  at  Kusinagara  in  Oudh. 
In  point  of  age,  therefore,  most  other  creeds 
are  youthful  compared  with  this  venerable 
religion,  which  has  in  it  the  eternity  of  a  uni- 
versal hope,  the  immortality  of  a  boundless 
love,  an  indestructible  element  of  faith  in  final 
good,  and  the  proudest  assertion  ever  made  of 
human  freedom.  The  extravagances  which 
disfigure  the  record  and  practice  of  Buddhism 
are  to  be  referred  to  that  inevitable  degrada- 
tion which  priesthoods  always  inflict  upon 
great  ideas  committed  to  their  charge.  The 
power  and  sublimity  of  Gautama's  original 
doctrines  should  be  estimated  by  their  influ- 
ence, not  by  their  interpreters ;  nor  by  that 
innocent  but  lazy  and  ceremonious  church 
which  has  arisen  on  the  foundations  of  the 
Buddhistic  Brotherhood  or  "  Sangha." 

I  have  put  my  poem  into  a  Buddhist's  mouth, 
because,  to  appreciate  the  spirit  of  Asiatic 
thoughts,  they  should  be  regarded  from  the 
Oriental  point  of  view  ;  and  neither  the  mir- 
acles which  consecrate  this  record,  nor  the 
philosophy  which  it  embodies,  could  have  been 
otherwise  so  naturally  reproduced.  The  doc- 
trine of  Transmigration,  for  instance — startling 
to  modern  minds — was  established  and  thor- 


Iprcface.  9 

oughly  accepted  by  the  Hindus  of  Buddha's 
time  ;  that  period  when  Jerusalem  was  being 
taken  by  Nebuchadnezzar,  when  Nineveh  was 
falling  to  the  Medes,  and  Marseilles  was 
founded  by  the  Phocaeans.  The  exposition 
here  offered  of  so  antique  a  system  is  of  neces- 
sity incomplete,  and — in  obedience  to  the  laws 
of  poetic  art^passes  rapidly  by  many  matters 
philosophically  most  important,  as  well  as 
over  the  long  ministry  of  Gautama.  But  my 
purpose  has  been  obtained  if  any  just  concep- 
tion be  here  conveyed  of  the  lofty  character  of 
this  noble  prince,  and  of  the  general  purport 
of  his  doctrines.  As  to  these  there  has  arisen 
prodigious  controversy  among  the  erudite,  who 
will  be  aware  that  I  have  taken  the  imperfect 
Buddhistic  citations  much  as  they  stand  in 
Spence  Hardy's  work,  and  have  also  modified 
more  than  one  passage  in  the  received  narra- 
tives. The  views,  however,  here  indicated  of 
*'  Nirvana,"  "  Dharma,"  "  Karma,"  and  the 
other  chief  features  of  Buddhism,  are  at  least 
the  fruits  of  considerable  study,  and  also  of  a 
firm  conviction  that  a  third  of  mankind  would 
never  have  been  brought  to  believe  in  blank 
abstractions,  or  in  Nothingness  as  the  issue 
and  crown  of  Being. 


lo  pretace. 

Finally,  in  reverence  to  the  illustrious  Pro- 
mulgator of  this  "  Light  of  Asia,"  and  in  hom- 
age to  the  many  eminent  scholars  who  have 
devoted  noble  labors  to  his  memory,  for  which 
both  repose  and  ability  are  wanting  to  me,  I 
beg  that  the  shortcomings  of  my  too-hurried 
study  may  be  forgiven.  It  has  been  com- 
posed in  the  brief  intervals  of  days  without 
leisure,  but  is  inspired  by  an  abiding  desire  to 
aid  in  the  better  mutual  knowledge  of  East 
and  West.  The  time  may  come,  I  hope,  when 
this  book  and  my  "  Indian  Song  of  Songs  " 
will  preserve  the  memory  of  one  who  loved 
India  and  the  Indian  peoples. 

EDWIN  ARNOLD,  C.  S.  I. 

London, /«/)/,  1879. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA. 


§o0h  tht  gix^t 


TJie  Scriptiwe  of  the  Saviour  of  the  Wo7-ld, 
Lord   Buddha — Prince    Sidddrtha    styled   on 

earth — 
J71  Earth  and  Heave?is  and  Hells  Incomparable^ 
All  honored.  Wisest,  Best,  most  Pitiful  ; 
TJie  Teacher  of  Nirvd7ia  and  the  Law. 

Thus  came  he  to  be  born  again  for  men. 

Below  the  highest  sphere  four  Regents  sit 
Who  rule  our  world,  and  under  them  are  zones 
Nearer,  but  high,  where  saintliest  spirits  dead 
Wait   thrice   ten   thousand    years,    then    live 

again  ; 
And  on  Lord  Buddha,  waiting  in  that  sky, 
Came  for  our  sakes  the  five  sure  signs  of  birth 


12  ^be  Xlgbt  of  Bsia. 

So  that  the  Devas  knew  the  signs,  and  said 
"  Buddha  will  go  again  to  help  the  World." 
"  Yea  ! "    spake  He,  "  now  I  go  to    help  the 

World 
This  last  of  many  times  ;  for  birth  and  death 
End  hence  for  me  and  those  who  learn  my 

Law. 
I  will  go  down  among  the  Sakyas, 
Under  the  southward  snows  of  Himalay, 
Where  pious  people  live  and  a  just  King." 

That  night  the  wife  of  King  Suddhodana, 
Maya  the  Queen,  asleep  beside  her  Lord, 
Dreamed   a  strange   dream  ;  dreamed    that  a 

star  from  Heaven — 
Splendid,  six-rayed,  in  color  rosy-pearl. 
Whereof  the  token  was  an  Elephant 
Six-tusked  and  whiter  than  Vahuka's  milk — 
Shot  through  the  void  and,  shining  into  her, 
Entered  her  womb  upon  the  right.     Awaked, 
Bliss  beyond  mortal  mother's  filled  her  breast, 
And  over  half  the  earth  a  lovely  light 
Forewent  the  morn.     The  strong  hills  shook ; 

the  waves 
Sank  lulled  ;  all  flowers  that  blow  by  day  came 

forth 
As  'twere  high  noon ;  down  to  the  farthest  hells 


:©ooft  tbe  ffirst.  13 

Passed  the  Queen's  joy,  as  when  warm  sun- 
shine thrills 
Wood-glooms  to  gold,  and  into  all  the  deeps 
A  tender  whisper  pierced.  "  Oh  ye,"  it  said, 
"The  dead  that  are  to  live,  the  live  who  die, 
Uprise,    and    hear,    and    hope !     Buddha   is 

come  ! " 
Whereat  in  Limbos  numberless  much  peace 
Spread,  and  the  world's  heart  throbbed,  and  a 

wind  blew 
With  unknown  freshness  over  lands  and  seas. 
And  when  the  morning  dawned,  and  this  was 

told. 
The  grey  dream-readers  said  "  The  dream  is 

good  ! 
The  Crab  is  in  conjunction  with  the  Sun ; 
The  Queen  shall  bear  a  boy,  a  holy  child 
Of  wondrous  wisdom,  profiting  all  flesh. 
Who  shall  deliver  men  from  ignorance. 
Or  rule  the  world,  if  he  wdll  deign  to  rule.'* 

In  this  wise  was  the  holy  Buddha  born. 

Queen  Maya  stood  at  noon,  her  days  fulfilled, 
Under  a  Palsa  in  the  Palace-grounds, 
A  stately  trunk,  straight  as  a  temple-shaft. 
With    crown    of  glossy  leaves     and    fragraut 
blooms; 


14  ^be  Xfflbt  ot  Bsia. 

And,  knowing  the  time  come — for  all   things 

knew — 
The  conscious  tree  bent  down  its  boughs  to 

make 
A  bower  about  Queen  Maya's  majesty, 
And  Earth  put  forth  a  thousand  sudden  flowers 
To  spread  a  couch,  while,  ready  for  the  bath, 
The  rock  hard  by  gave  out  a  limpid  stream 
Of   crystal   flow.     So   brought  she  forth   her 

child 
Pangless — he  having  on  his  perfect  form 
The  marks,  thirty  and  two,  of  blessed  birth ; 
Of  which  the  great  news  to  the  Palace  came. 
But  when  they  brought  the  painted  palanquin 
To  fetch  him  home,  the  bearers  of  the  poles 
Were  the  four  Regents   of  the   Earth,  came 

down 
From  Mount  Sumeru — they  who  write  men's 

deeds 
On  brazen  plates — the  Angel  of  the  East, 
Whose  hosts  are  clad  in  silver  robes,  and  bear 
Targets  of  pearl :  the  Angel  of  the  South, 
Whose  horsemen,  the  Kumbhandas,  ride  blue 

steeds, 
With  sapphire  shields  :  the  Angel  of  the  West, 
By  Nagas  followed,  riding  steeds  blood-red, 
With  coral  shields :  the  Angel  of  the  North, 


:lSool?  tbe  Jfirst.  15 

Environed  by  his  Yakshas,  all  in  gold, 
On  yellow  horses,  bearing  shields  of  gold. 
These,  with  their  pomp  invisible,  came  down 
And   took   the   poles,   in   caste  and   outward 

garb 
Like  bearers,  yet  most  mighty  gods  ;  and  gods 
Walked  free  with  men  that  day,  though  men 

knew  not : 
For   Heaven   was   filled    with    gladness    for 

Earth's  sake. 
Knowing  Lord  Buddha  thus  was  come  again. 

But  King  Suddhodana  wist  not  of  this  ; 
The  portents  troubled,  till   his  dream-readers 
Augured  a  Prince  of  earthly  dominance, 
A  Chakravartin,  such  as  rise  to  rule 
Once  in  each  thousand  years ;  seven  gifts  he 

has — 
The  Chakra-ratna,  disc  divine  ;  the  gem  ; 
The  horse,  the  Aswa-ratna,  that  proud  steed 
Which     tramps     the    clouds ;    a   snow-white 

elephant. 
The  Hasti-ratna,  born  to  bear  his  king ; 
The  crafty  Minister,  the  General 
Unconquered,  and  the  wife  of  peerless  grace, 
The  Istri-ratna,  lovelier  than  the  Dawn. 
For  which  gifts  looking  with  this  wondrous  boy, 


i6         "         Q^bc  Xiabt  of  Bsia. 

The  King  gave  order  that  his  town  should  keep 
High  festival ;  therefore  the  ways  were  swept, 
Rose-odors  sprinkled  in  the  street,  the  trees 
Were  hung  with  lamps  and  flags,  while  merry 

crowds 
Gaped  on  the  sword-players  and  posturers, 
The  jugglers,  charmers,  swingers,  rope-walkers, 
The  nautch-girls  in  their  spangled  skirts  and 

bells 
That  chime  light  laughter  round  their  restless 

feet; 
The   masquers  wrapped  in  skins  of  bear  and 

deer. 
The  tiger-tamers,  wrestlers,  quail-fighters, 
Beaters  of  drum  and  twanglers  of  the  wire, 
Who  made  the  people  happy  by  command. 
Moreover  from  afar  came  merchant-men, 
Bringing,  on  tidings  of  this  birth,  rich  gifts 
In  golden  trays  ;  goat-shawls,   and  nard   and 

jade, 
Turkises,  "  evening-sky  "  tint,  woven  webs — 
So  fine  twelve  folds  hide  not  a  modest  face — 
Waist-cloths    sewn    thick    with    pearls,    and 

sandal-wood  ; 
Homage  from  tribute  cities  ;  so  they  called 
Their  Prince  Savarthasiddh,  "  All-Prospering," 
Briefer,  Siddartha. 


JBooft  tbe  mvsu  17 

'Mongst  the  strangers  came 
A  grey-haired  saint,  Asita,  one  whose  ears, 
Long  closed  to  earthly  things,  caught  heavenly 

sounds. 
And  heard  at  prayer  beneath  his  peepul-tree 
The  Devas  singing  songs  at  Buddha's  birth. 
Wondrous  in  lore  he  was  by  age  and  fasts  ; 
Him,  drawing  nigh,  seeming  so  reverend, 
The  King  saluted,  and  Queen  Maya  made 
To  lay  her  babe  before  such  holy  feet ; 
But  when  he   saw   the    Prince   the   old   man 

cried 
*'  Ah,    Queen,    not   so  ! "    and    thereupon   he 

touched 
Eight  times  the  dust,    laid  his  waste  visage 

there. 
Saying,  "  O  Babe  !  I  worship  !     Thou  art  He ! 
I  see  the  rosy  light,  the  foot-sole  marks, 
The  soft  curled  tendril  of  the  Swastika, 
The  sacred  primal  signs  thirty  and  two. 
The  eighty  lesser  tokens.     Thou  art  Buddh, 
And  thou  wilt  preach   the  Law  and   save  all 

flesh 
Who  learn  the  Law,  though  I  shall  never  hear, 
Dying  too  soon,  who  lately  longed  to  die  ; 
Howbeit  I  have  seen  Thee.      Know,  O  King  ! 
This  is  that  Blossom  on  our  human  tree 


i8  ^be  Xigbt  ot  Bsia, 

Which  opens  once  in  many  myriad  years — 
But   opened,  fills   the  world   with  Wisdom's 

scent 
And  Love's   dropped  honey ;  from  thy  royal 

root 
A    Heavenly    Lotus    springs :    "  Ah,    happy 

House  ! 
Yet  not  all-happy,  for  a  sword  must  pierce 
Thy  bowels  for  this  boy — whilst  thou,  sweet 

Queen  ! 
Dear  to  all  gods  and  men  for  this  great  birth, 
Henceforth  art  grown  too  sacred  for  more  woe, 
And  life  is  woe,  therefore  in  seven  days 
Painless  thou  shalt  attain  the  close  of  pain." 

Which  fell :  for  on  the  seventh  evening 
Queen   Maya   smiling   slept,   and   waked     no 

more, 
Passing  content  to  Trayastrinshas-Heaven, 
Where  countless  Devas  worship  her  and  wait 
Attendant  on  that  radiant  Motherhead. 
But  for  the  Babe  they  found  a  foster-nurse. 
Princess  Mahtprajapati — her  breast 
Nourished  with  noble  milk  the  lips  of  Him 
Whose  lips  comfort  the  Worlds. 

When  th'  eighth  year  passed 
The  careful  King  bethought  to  teach  his  son 


:©ooft  tbe  3first.  19 

All   that   a  Prince   should   learn,  for  still  he 

shunned 
The  too  vast  presage  of  those  miracles, 
The  glories  and  the  sufferings  of  a  Buddh. 
So,  in  full  council  of  his  Ministers, 
"Who  is  the  wisest  man,  great  sirs,"  he  asked, 
^'To  teach   my  Prince   that   which  a  Prince 

should  know  ? 
Whereto  gave  answer  each  with  instant  voice 
*'  King  !  Viswamitra  is  the  wisest  one, 
The  farthest-seen  in  Scriptures,  and  the  best 
In  learning,  and  the  manual  arts,  and  all." 
Thus  Viswamitra  came  and  heard  commands  ; 
And,  on  a  day  found  fortunate,  the  Prince 
Took  up  his  slate  of  ox-red  sandal-wood. 
All-beautified  by  gems  around  the  rim. 
And  sprinkled  smooth  with  dust  of  emery. 
These  took  he,  and  his  writing-stick,  and  stood 
With  eyes   bent  down   before  the  Sage,  who 

said, 
*'  Child,  write  this  Scripture,"  speaking  slow 

the  verse 
"  Gdyatri "    named,    which    only    High-born 

hear : — 

Om^  tatsaviticrvaren'yam 
Bhargo  devasya  dhimahi 
Dhiyo  yd  7ia  prachodayat. 


20  ^bc  %iQbt  ot  Bsla. 

"  Acharya,  I  write,"  meekly  replied 

The    Prince,    and    quickly   on   the    dust   he 

drew — 
Not  in  one  script,  but  many  characters — 
The  sacred  verse  ;  Nagri  and  Dakshin,  Ni, 
Mangal,  Parusha,  Yava,  Tirthi,  Uk, 
Darad,  Sikhyani,  Mana,  Madhyachar, 
The  pictured  writings  and  the  speech  of  signs, 
Tokens  of  cave-men  and  the  sea-peoples. 
Of   those   who   worship   snakes   beneath   the 

earth. 
And  those  who  flame  adore  and  the  sun's  orb, 
The  Magians  and  the  dwellers  on  the  mounds  ; 
Of  all  the  nations  all  strange  scripts  he  traced 
One  after  other  with  his  writing-stick, 
Reading  the  master's  verse  in  every  tongue  ; 
And  Viswamitra  said,  "  It  is  enough, 
Let  us  to  numbers. 

After  me  repeat 
Your  numeration  till  we  reach  the  Lakh, 
One,  two,  three,  four,  to  ten,  and  then  by  tens 
To    hundreds,    thousands."     After    him    the 

child 
Named  digits,  decads,  centuries  ;  nor  paused, 
The  round  lakh  reached,  but  softly  murmured 

on 
"  Then  comes  the  koti,  nahut,  ninnahut, 


JBooft  tbe  3fir6t.  21 

Khamba,  viskhamba,  abab,  attata, 

To  kumuds,  gundhikas,  and  utpalas, 

By  pundarikas  unto  padumas, 

Which  last  is  how  you  count  the  utmost  grains 

Of  Hastagiri  ground  to  finest  dust ; 

But  beyond  that  a  numeration  is, 

The  Katha,  used  to  count  the  stars  at  night ; 

The  Koti- Katha,  for  the  ocean  drops ; 

Ingga,  the  calculus  of  circulars  ; 

Sarvanikchepa,  by  the  which  you  deal 

With  all  the  sands  of  Gunga,  till  we  come 

To  Antah-Kalpas,  where  the  unit  is 

The  sands  of  ten  crore  Gungas.     If  one  seeks 

More  comprehensive  scale,  th'  arithmic  mounts 

By  the  Asankya,  which  is  the  tale 

Of  all  the  drops  that  in  ten  thousand  years 

Would  fall  on  all  the  worlds  by  daily  rain ; 

Thence  unto  Maha  Kalpas,  by  the  which 

The  Gods  compute  their  future  and  their  past.*' 

"  'Tis  good,"  the  Sage  rejoined,  "  Most  noble 
Prince, 
If  these  thou  know'st,  needs  it  that  I  should 

teach 
The  mensuration  of  the  lineal  ?  " 
Humbly  the  boy  replied,  "  Acharya  !  " 
"  Be  pleased  to  hear  me.     Paramanus  ten 


22  ^be  %iQbi  ot  2lsia» 

A  parasukshma  make  ;  ten  of  those  build 

The  trasarene,  and  seven  trasarenes 

One  mote's-length  floating  in  the  beam,  seven 

motes 
The  whisker-point  of  mouse,  and  ten  of  these 
One  Hkhya ;  likhyas  ten  a  yuka,  ten 
Yukas  a  heart  of  barley,  which  is  held 
Seven  times  a  wasp-waist ;    so  unto  the  grain 
Of  mung  and  mustard  and  the  barley-corn. 
Whereof  ten  give  the  finger-joint,  twelve  joints 
The  span,  wherefrom  we  reach  the  cubit,  staff, 
Bow-length,  lance-length  ;  while  twenty  lengths 

of  lance 
Mete  what  is  named  a  '  breath,'  which  is  to  say 
Such  space  as  man  may  stride  wath  lungs  once 

filled 
Whereof  a  gow  is  forty,  four  times  that 
A  yojana  ;  and.  Master  !  if  it  please, 
I  shall  recite  how  many  sun-motes  lie 
From  end  to  end  within  a  yojana." 
Thereat,  with  instant  skill,  the  little  Prince 
Pronounced  the  total  of  the  atoms  true. 
But  Viswamitra  heard  it  on*  his  face 
Prostrate  before  the  boy ;    "  For  thou,"    he 

cried, 
***  Art  Teacher  of  thy  teachers — thou,  not  I, 
Art  Guru.     Oh,  I  worship  thee,  sweet  Prince ! 


:fi5ooft  tbe  ^ixsU  23 

That  comest  to  my  school  only  to  show 
Thou    knowest   all   without   the   books,    and 

know'st 
Fair  reverence  besides." 

Which  reverence 
Lord  Buddha  kept  to  all  his  schoolmasters,    . 
Albeit  beyond  their  learning  taught ;  in  speech 
Right  gentle,  yet  so  wise  ;  princely  of  mien, 
Yet  softly-mannered  ;  modest,  deferent, 
And  tender-hearted,  though  of  fearless  blood ; 
No  bolder  horseman  in  the  youthful  band 
E'er  rode  in  gay  chase  of  the  shy  gazelles ; 
No  keener  driver  of  the  chariot 
In  mimic  contest  scoured  the  Palace-courts ; 
Yet  in  mid-play  the  boy  would  ofttimes  pause, 
Letting  the    deer   pass   free ;   would  ofttimes 

yield 
His  half-won  race  because  the  laboring  steeds 
Fetched    painful    breath ;    or   if   his   princely 

mates 
Saddened  to  lose,  or  if  some  wistful  dream 
Swept  o'er  his    thoughts.     And  ever  with  the 

years 
Waxed  this  compassionateness  of  our  Lord, 
Even  as  a  great  tree  grows  from  two  soft  leaves 
To  spread  its  shade  afar  ;  but  hardly  yet 
Knew  the   young    child    of  sorrow,   pain,  or 

tears, 


24  ^t)e  XlQbt  of  Bsia. 

Save  as  strange  names  for  things  not  felt  by 

kings, 
Nor  ever  to  be  felt.     But  it  befell 
In  the  Royal  garden  on  a  day  of  spring, 
A  flock  of  wild  swans  passed,  voyaging    north 
To  their  nest-places  on  Himala's  breast. 
Calling  in  love-notes  down  their  snowy  line 
The  bright  birds  flew,  by  fond  love  piloted ; 
And  Devadatta,  cousin  of  the  Prince, 
Pointed  his  bow,  and  loosed  a  wilful  shaft 
Which  found  the  wide  wing   of   the   foremost 

swan 
Broad-spread  to    glide    upon  the    free   blue 

road 
So  that  it  fell,  the  bitter  arrow  fixed. 
Bright   scarlet  blood-gouts   staining   the  pure 

plumes. 
Which  seeing,  Prince  Siddartha  took  the  bird 
Tenderly  up,  rested  it  in  his  lap — 
Sitting  with   knees  crossed,  as  Lord    Buddha 

sits — 
And,  soothing  with   a   touch  the  wild  thing's 

fright, 
Composed  its  ruffled  vans,  calmed   its  quick 

heart. 
Caressed  it  into  peace  with  light  kind  palms 
As  soft  as  plaintain-leaves  an  hour  unrolled  ; 


:fiSooft  tbe  ^iret.  25 

And  while  the  left  hand  held,  the  right  hand 

drew 
The  cruel  steel  forth  from  the  wound  and  laid 
Cool  leaves  and  healing  honey  on  the  smart. 
Yet  all  so  little  knew  the  boy  of  pain 
That  curiously  into  his  wrist  he  pressed 
The  arrow's  barb,  and  winced  to  feel  it  sting, 
And  turned  with  tears  to  soothe  his  bird  again. 
Then  some  one  came  who  said,  "  My  Prince 

hath  shot 
A  swan,  which  fell  among  the  roses  here, 
He  bids  me  pray  you  send  it.     Will  you  send  ? " 
"  Nay,"  quoth   Siddartha,   "  if  the  bird  were 

dead 
To  send  it  to  the  slayer  might  be  well. 
But  the  swan  lives  ;  my  cousin  hath  but  killed 
The   god-like   speed  which   throbbed  in  this 

white  wing." 
And  Devadatta  answered,  "  The  wild  thing. 
Living  or  dead,  is  his  who  fetched  it  down  ; 
'Tw^as  no  man's  in  the  clouds,  but  fall'n  'tis 

mine. 
Give  me  my  prize,  fair  Cousin."  Then  our  Lord 
Laid  the  swan's  neck  beside  his  own  smooth 

cheek 
And  gravely  spake,  "  Say  no  !  the  bird  is  mine. 
The  first  of  myriad  things  which  shall  be  mine 


26  ^be  Xifibt  of  B6ta. 

By  right  of  mercy  and  love's  lordliness. 
For  now  I  know,  by  what  within  me  stirs, 
That  I  shall  teach  compassion  unto  men 
And  be  a  speechless  world's  interpreter, 
Abating  this  accursed  flood  of  woe, 
Not  man's  alone ;   but,  if  the  Prince  disputes^ 
Let  him  submit  this  matter  to  the  Avise 
And  we  will  wait  their  word."  So  was  it  done ; 
In  full  divan  the  business  had  debate, 
And  many  thought  this  thing  and  many  that, 
Till  there  arose  an  unknown  priest  who  said, 
"  If  life  be  aught,  the  saviour  of  a  life 
Owns  more  the  living  thing  than  he  can  own 
Who   sought   to  slay — the   slayer  spoils  and 

wastes, 
The  cherisher  sustains,  give  him  the  bird  :  " 
Which  judgment  all  found  just ;  but  when  the 

King 
Sought  out  the  sage  for  honor,  he  was  gone  ; 
And   some   one  saw   a   hooded    snake   glide 

forth,— 
The  gods  come  ofttimes  thus  !     So  our  Lord 

Buddh 
Began  his  works  of  mercy. 

Yet  not  more 
Knew  he  as  yet  of  grief  than  that  one  bird's, 
Which,  being  healed,  went  joyous  to  its  kind. 


JBooft  tbe  afirst.  27 

But  on  another  day  the  King  said,  "  Come, 
Sweet  son  !  and    see    the    pleasaimce    of   the 

spring. 
And  how  the  fruitful  earth  is  wooed  to  yield 
Its  riches  to  the  reaper ;  how  my  realm — 
Which  shall  be  thine  when  the  pile  flames   for 

me — 
Feeds  all   its  mouths  and   keeps   the    King's 

chest  filled. 
Fair  is    the    season   with    new   leaves,    bright 

blooms, 
Green  grass,    and  cries    of  plough-time."     So 

they  rode 
Into  a  land  of  wells  and  gardens,  where, 
All  up  and  down  the  rich  red  loam,  the  steers 
Strained  their  strong  shoulders  in  the  creaking 

yoke 
Dragging  the  ploughs  ;  the   fat  soil  rose   and 

rolled 
In  smooth   dark  waves  back  from  the  plough  ; 

who  drove 
Planted  both  feet  upon  the  leaping  share 
To  make  the  furrow  deep  ;  among  the  palms 
The  tinkle  of  the  rippling  water  rang. 
And  where  it  ran  the  glad  earth  'broidered  it 
With  balsams  and  the  spears  of  lemon-grass. 
Elsewhere  were  sowers  who  went  forth  to  sow  j 


28  ^bc  Xigbt  ot  Bsia. 

And  all  the  jungle  laughed  with  nesting-songs, 
And  all  the  thickets  rustled  with  small  life 
Of  lizard,  bee,  beetle,  and  creeping  things 
Pleased   at  the  spring-time.      In   the  mango- 
sprays 
The  sun-birds  flashed  ;  alone  at  his  green  forge 
Toiled     the     loud    coppersmith ;     bee-eaters 

hawked 
Chasing  the  purple  butterflies  ;   beneath, 
Striped  squirrels  raced,  the  mynas  perked  and 

picked, 
The  nine  brown  sisters  chattered  in  the  thorn, 
The  pied  fish-tiger  hung  above  the  pool, 
The  egrets  stalked  among  the  buffaloes, 
The  kites  sailed  circles  in  the  golden  air  ; 
About  the  painted  temple  peacocks  flew. 
The  blue  doves  cooed  from  every  well,  far  off 
The  village  drums  beat  for  some  marriage-feast; 
All  things  spoke  peace   and  plenty,  and  the 

Prince 
Saw  and  rejoiced.     But,  looking  deep,  he  saw 
The  thorns  which  grow  upon  this  rose  of  life ; 
How  the  swart  peasant  sweated  for  his  wage. 
Toiling  for  leave  to  live  ;  and  how  he  urged 
The  great-eyed  oxen  through  the  flaming  hours, 
Goading  their  velvet  flanks  :  then  marked  he, 
too, 


:Gooft  tbe  ^'irst.  29 

How  lizard  fed  on  ant,  and  snake  on  him, 
And    kite  on    both  ;    and  how   the  fish-hawk 

robbed 
The  fish-tiger  of  that  which  it  had  seized ; 
The  shrike  chasing  the  bulbul,  which  did  chase 
The  jewelled  butterflies  ;  till  everywhere 
Each  slew  a  slayer  and  in  turn  was  slain, 
Life  living  upon  death.     So  the  fair  show 
Veiled  one  vast,  savage,  grim  conspiracy 
Of  mutual  murder,  from  the  worm  to  man, 
Who  himself  kills  his  fellow  ;  seeing  which — 
The  hungry  ploughman  and  his  laboring  kine, 
Their  dewlaps  blistered  with  the  bitter  yoke. 
The  rage  to  live  which  makes  all  living  strife — 
The  Prince   Siddartha  sighed.  "Is  this,"  he 

said, 
*'  That  happy  earth  they  brought  me  forth  to 

see  ? 
How  salt  with  sweat  the  peasant's  bread  !  how 

hard 
The  oxen's  service !  in  the  brake  how  fierce 
The  war  of  weak  and  strong  !  i'  th'  air  what 

plots ! 
No  refuge  e'en  in  water.     Go  aside 
A  space,  and  let  me  muse  on  what  ye  show." 
So  saying,  the  good  Lord  Buddha  seated  him 
Under  a  jambu-tree,  with  ankles  crossed — 


30  ^bc  XlQbt  ot  Bsia. 

As  holy  statues  sit — and  first  began 
To  meditate  this  deep  disease  of  life, 
What  its  far  source  and  whence  its  remedy. 
So  vast  a  pity  filled  him,  such  wide  love 
For  living  things,  such  passion  to  heal  pain, 
That  by  their  stress  his  princely  spirit  passed 
To  ecstasy,  and,   purged  from  mortal  taint 
Of  sense  and  self,  the  boy  attained  thereat 
Dhyana,  first  step  of  "  the  path." 

There  flew 
High  overhead  that  hour  five  holy  ones. 
Whose  free  wings  faltered  as  they  passed  the 

tree. 
"  What   power    superior   draws   us  from  our 

flight?" 
They  asked,  for  spirits  feel  all  force  divine, 
And  know  the  sacred  presence  of  the  pure. 
Then,    looking    downward,    they    beheld    the 

Buddh 
Crowned  with  a  rose-hued  aureole,  intent 
On  thoughts  to  save  ;  while  from  the  grove  a 

voice 
Cried,    "  Rishis  !  this   is  He   shall    help   the 

world, 
Descend  and  worship."     So  the    Bright  Ones 

came 
And  sang  a  song  of  praise,  folding  their  wings, 


:©ooft  tbc  3fir5t,  31 

Then    journeyed    on    taking    good    news    to 
Gods. 

But   certain   from   the   King    seeking    the 

Prince 
Found  him  still  musing,   though  the  noon  was 

past, 
And  the  sun  hastened  to  the  western  hills : 
Yet,  while  all  shadows  moved,  the  jambu-tree's 
Stayed  in  one  quarter,  overspreading  him, 
Lest  the  sloped  rays  should  strike  that  sacred 

head  ; 
And  he  who  saw  this  sight  heard  a  voice  say, 
Amid  the  blossoms  of  the  rose-apple, 
*'  Let  be  the  King's  son  !  till  the  shadow  goes 
Forth  from  his  heart  my  shadow  will  not  shift." 


§00fe  iU  ^ttmA. 


Now,  when  our  Lord  was  come  to   eighteen 

years, 
The  King   commanded  that  there  should  be 

built 
Three  stately   houses,   one   of   hewn   square 

beams 
With  cedar  lining,  warm  for  winter  days  ; 
One  of  veined  marbles,  cool  for  summer  heat ; 
And   one   of  burned   bricks,    with   blue   tiles 

bedecked, 
Pleasant   at   seed-time,  when    the   champaks 

bud— 
Subha,  Suramma,  Ramma,  were  their  names. 
Delicious  gardens  round  about  them  bloomed, 
Streams  wandered  wild  and   musky  thickets 

stretched, 
With  many  a  bright  pavilion  and  fair  lawn 
In  midst  of  which  Siddartha  strayed  at  will, 
Some  new  delight  provided  every  hour  •, 
And  happy  hours  he  knew,  for  life  was  rich, 

32 


JBooft  tbe  SeconD*  33 

With  youthful  blood  at  quickest ;  yet  still  came 

The  shadows  of  his  meditation  back, 

As  the  lake's  silver  dulls  with  driving  clouds. 

Which  the  king  marking,  called  his  ^Ministers. 
''  Bethink  ye,  sirs  !  how  the  old  Rishi  spake," 
He  said,  "  and  what  my  dream-readers  foretold. 
This  boy,  more  dear  to  me  than  mine  heart's 

blood, 
Shall  be  of  universal  dominance, 
Trampling  the  neck  of  all  his  enemies, 
A  King  of  kings — and  this  is  in  my  heart  ; — 
Or  he  shall  tread  the  sad  and  lowly  path 
Of  self-denial  and  of  pious  pains, 
Gaining  who  knows  what  good,  when  all  is  lost 
Worth  keeping  ;  and  to  this  his  wistful  eyes 
Do  still  incline  amid  my  palaces. 
But  ye  are  sage,  and  ye  will  counsel  me  ; 
How  may  his  feet  be  turned  to  that  proud  road 
Where   they   should   walk,  and  all   fair   signs 

come  true 
Which   gave   him    Earth  to  rule,  if   he  would 

rule?" 

The  eldest  answered,  "  Maharaja  !  love 
Will  cure  these  thin   distempers;  weave   the 
spell 
3 


34  ^be  %iQbt  of  Bsia. 

Of  woman's  wiles  about  his  idle  heart. 
What  knows  this  noble  boy  of  beauty  yet, 
Eyes  that  make   heaven   forgot,  and   lips  of 

balm  ? 
Find  him  soft  wives  and  pretty  playfellows  ; 
The  thoughts  ye  cannot  stay  with  brazen  chains 
A  girl's  hair  lightly  binds." 

And  all  thought  good, 
But  the  King  answered,  "  if  we  seek  him  wives, 
Love  chooseth  ofttimes  with  another  eye  ; 
And  if  we  bid  range  Beauty's  garden  round, 
To  pluck  what  blossom  pleases,  he  will  smile 
And  sweetly  shun  the  joy  he  knows  not  of." 
Then  said  another,  "  Roams  the  barasingh 
Until  the  fated  arrow  flies  ;  for  him, 
As  for  less  lordly  spirits,  some  one  charms. 
Some  face  will  seem  a  Paradise,  some  form 
Fairer  than  pale  Dawn   when  she   wakes   the 

world. 
This  do,  my  King  !     Command  a  festival 
Where  the  realm's  maids  shall  be  competitors 
In  youth  and  grace,  and  sports  that  Sakyas 

use. 
Let  the  Prince  give  the  prizes  to  the  fair, 
And,  when  the  lovely  victors  pass  his  seat, 
There  shall  be  those  who  mark   if  one  or  two 


:fl5ooft  tbe  Second. 


35 


Change  the  fixed  sadness  of  his  tender  cheek; 
So  we  may  choose  for  Love  with  Love's  own 

eyes, 
And  cheat  his  Highness  into  happiness." 
This   thing  seemed  good ;  wherefore  upon  a 

day 
The  criers  bade  the  young  and  beautiful 
Pass  to  the  palace,  for  'twas  in  command 
To  hold  a  court  of  pleasure,  and  the  Prince 
Would  give  the  prizes,  something  rich  for  all, 
The  richest  for  the  fairest  judged.     So  flocked 
Kapilavastu's  maidens  to  the  gate. 
Each  with  her  dark  hair  newly  smoothed  and 

bound. 
Eyelashes  lustred  with  the  soorma-stick, 
Fresh-bathed  and  scented ;  all  in  shawls  and 

cloths 
Of  gayest ;  slender  hands  and  feet  new-stained 
With   crimson,   and  the   tilka-spots    stamped 

bright. 
Fair  show  it  was  of  all  those  Indian  girls 
Slow-pacing  past  the   throne  with  large  black 

eyes 
Fixed  on  the  ground,   for  when  they  saw  the 

Prince 
More  than  the  awe  of  Majesty  made  beat 
Their  fluttering  hearts,  he  sate  so  passionless, 


^e  ^be  Xlgbt  of  Bsta, 

Gentle,  but  so  beyond  them.     Each  maid  took 
With    down-dropped    lids   her  gift,  afraid   to 

gaze; 
And  if  the  people  hailed  some  lovelier  one 
Beyond  her  rivals  worthy  royal  smiles, 
She  stood  like  a  scared  antelope  to  touch 
The  gracious  hand,  then  fled  to  join  her  mates 
Trembling  at  favor,  so  divine  he  seemed, 
So  high  and  saint-like  and  above  her  w^orld. 
Thus  filed  they,  one  bright  maid  after  another, 
The   city's   flowers,    and   all    this   beauteous 

march 
Was  ending  and  the  prizes  spent,  when  last 
Came  young  Yasodhara,  and  they  that  stood 
Nearest  Siddartha  saw  the  princely  boy 
Start,  as  the  radiant  girl  approached.     A  form 
Of  heavenly  mould  ;  a  gait  like  Parvati's  ; 
Eyes  like  a  hind's  in  love-time,  face  so  fair 
Words  cannot  paint  its  spell  ;  and  she  alone 
Gazed   full — folding    her    palms    across   her 

breasts — 
On  the  boy's  gaze,  her  stately  neck  unbent. 
"  Is   there    a   gift   for  me  .^ "  she    asked,  and 

smiled. 
"  The  gifts  are  gone,"  the  Prince  replied,  "  yet 

take 
This  for  amends,  dear  sister,  of  whose  grace 


JSooli  tbe  SeconD.  37 

• 

Our  happy  city  boasts  ;  "  therewith  he  loosed 
The    emerald    necklet    from    his    throat,   and 

clasped 
Its  green  beads  round  her  dark  and  silk-soft 

waist ; 
And   their    eyes    mixed,    and   from    the    look 

sprang  love. 

Long  after — when  enlightenment  was  full — 
Lord    Buddha — being    prayed   w^hy   thus    his 

heart 
Took  fire  at  first  glance  of  the  Sakya  girl, 
Answered,   "  We  were  not  strangers,  as  to  us 
And  all  it  seemed  ;  in  ages  long  gone  by 
A  hunter's  son,  playing  with  forest  girls 
By  Yamun's  springs,  where  Nandadevi  stands, 
Sate  umpire  while  they  raced  beneath  the  firs 
Like  hares  at  eve  that  run  their  playful  rings  ; 
One   with  flower-stars    crowned  he,  one  with 

long  plumes 
Plucked  from  eyed  pheasant  and  the   jungle- 
cock. 
One  with  fir-apples  ;  but  who  ran  the  last 
Came  first  for  him,  and  unto  her  the  boy 
Gave  a  tame  fawn  and  his  heart's  love  beside. 
And  in  the  wood  they  lived  many  glad  years, 
And  in  the  wood  they  undivided  died. 


38  ^bc  %\Qbt  ot  Bsia. 

Lo  !  as  hid  seed  shoots  after  rainless  years, 
So  good  and  evil,  pains  and  pleasures,  hates 
And  loves,  and   all    dead    deeds,  come   forth 

again 
Bearing  bright  leaves  or  dark,  sweet  fruit  or 

sour. 
Thus  I  was  he  and  she  Yasodhara ; 
And  while  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns 

round. 
That   which  hath   been   must  be  between  us 

two." 

But  they  who  watched  the  Prince  at  prize- 
giving 
Saw  and  heard  all,  and  told  the  careful  King 
How  sate  Siddartha  heedless,  till  there  passed 
Great  Suprabuddha's  child,  Yasodhara  : 
And  how — at  sudden  sight  of  her — he  changed, 
And  how  she  gazed  on  him  and  he  on  her. 
And  of  the  jewel-gift,  and  what  beside 
Passed  in  their  speaking  glance. 

The  fond  King  smiled  : 
"  Look  !  we  have  found  a  lure  ;    take  counsel 

now 
To  fetch  therewith  our  falcon  from  the  clouds 
Let  messengers  be  sent  to  ask  the  maid 
In  marriage  for  my  son."     But  it  was  law 


JSooft  tbc  SeconD. 


39 


With  Sakyas,  when  any  asked  a  maid 

Of  noble  house,  fair  and  desirable, 

He  must  make  good  his  skill  in  martial  arts 

Against  all  suitors  who  should  challenge  it ; 

Nor  might  this  custom  break  itself  for  kings. 

Therefore    her   father    spake :    "  Say   to   the 

King, 
The  child  is  sought  by  princes  far  and  near ; 
If  thy  most  gentle  son  can  bend  the  bow, 
Sway  sword,  and  back   a   horse   better  than 

they," 
Best  would  he  be  in  all  and  best  to  us  : 
But  how   shall   this    be,    with   his    cloistered 

ways  ? 
Then  the  King's  heart  was  sore,  for  now  the 

Prince 
Begged  sweet  Yasodhara  for  wife — in  vain, 
With  Devadatta  foremost  at  the  bow, 
Ardjuna  master  of  all  fiery  steeds. 
And  Nanda  chief  in  sword-play  ;  but  the  Prince 
Laughed  low  and  said,  "  These  things,  too,  I 

have  learned ; 
Make  proclamation  that  thy  son  will  meet 
All  comers  at  their  chosen  games.     I  think 
I  shall  not  lose  my  love  for  such  as  these." 
So  'twas  given  forth  that  on  the  seventh  day 
The  Prince  Siddartha  summoned  whoso  would 


40  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsia, 

To  match  with  him  in  feats  of  manliness, 
The  victor's  crown  to  be  Yasodhara. 

Therefore,  upon  the  seventh  day,  there  went 
The  Sakya  lords  and  town  and  country  round 
Unto  the  maidan  ;  and  the  maid  went  too 
Amid  her  kinsfolk,  carried  as  a  bride. 
With  music,  and  with  litters  gayly  dight. 
And  gold-horned  oxen,  flower-caparisoned. 
Whom  Devadatta  claimed,  of  royal  line, 
And  Nanda  and  Ardjuna,  noble  both. 
The  flower  of  all  youths  there,  till  the  Prince 

came 
Riding  his  white  horse  Kantaka,  which  neighed, 
Astonished  at  this  great  strange  world  without : 
Also  Siddartha  gazed  with  wondering  eyes 
On  all  those  people  born  beneath  the  throne, 
Otherwise  housed  than  kings,  otherwise  fed, 
And   yet    so    like — perchance — in    joys    and 

griefs. 
But  when  the  Prince  saw  sweet  Yasodhara, 
Brightly  he  smiled,  and  drew  his  silken  rein, 
Leaped   to  the   earth  from  Kantaka's  broad 

back. 
And  cried,  "  He  is  not  worthy  of  this  pearl 
Who  is  not  worthiest ;  let  my  rivals  prove 
If  I  have  dared  too  much  in  seeking  her." 


:fi5ooft  tbe  SeconD.  41 

Then  Nanda  challenged  for  the  arrow-test 
And  set  a  brazen  drum  six  gows  away, 
iVrdjiina  six  and  Devadatta  eight ; 
But  Prince  Siddartha  bade  them  set  his  drum 
Ten  gows  from  off  the  line,  until  it  seemed 
A  cowry-shell  for  target.     Then  they  loosed, 
And  Nanda  pierced  his  drum,  Ardjuna  his. 
And  Devadatta  drove  a  well-aimed  shaft. 
Through  both  sides  of  his  mark,  so  that  the 

crowd 
Marvelled  and  cried  ;  and  sweet  Yasodhara 
Dropped  the  gold  sari  o'er  her  fearful  eyes. 
Lest  she  should  see  her  Prince's  arrow  fail. 
But  he,  taking  their  bow  of  lacquered  cane, 
With  sinews  bound,  and  strung  with  silverwire 
Which  none  but  stalwart  arms  could  draw  a 

span. 
Thrummed  it — low  laughing — drew  the  twisted 

string 
Till  the    horns    kissed,  and   the  thick   belly 

snapped  : 
That  is  for  play;  not  love,"  he  said ;  "  hath  none 
A  bow  more  fit  for  Sakya  lords  to  use  ? " 
And  one  said,  "  There  is  Sinhahanu's  bow, 
Kept  in  the  temple  since  we  know  not  when, 
Which   none   can  string,   nor   draw  if   it  be 

strung." 


42  ^be  OLigbt  of  asfa, 

"  Fetch   me,"  he   cried,   "  that  weapon   of   a 

man  !  " 
They  brought  the   ancient   bow,   wrought  of 

black  steel, 
Laid  with  gold  tendrils  on  its  branching  curves 
Like  bison-horns ;    and  twice  Siddartha  tried 
Its  strength   across   his    knee,  then  spake — 

"  Shoot  now 
With  this,  my  cousins  !  "  but  they  could  not 

bring 
The   stubborn  arms  a  hand's-breadth  nigher 

use  ; 
Then  the  Prince,  lightly  leaning,  bent  the  bow, 
Slipped   home   the  eye  upon  the  notch,  and 

twanged 
Sharply  the  cord,  which,  like  an  eagle's  wing 
Thrilling  the  air,  sang  forth  so  clear  and  loud 
That  feeble  folk  at  home  that  day  inquired 
"  What  is  this  sound  ?  "  and  people  answered 

them, 
"  It  is  the  sound  of  Sinhahanu's  bow, 
Which  the  King's  son  has  strung  and  goes  to 

shoot ; " 
Then  fitting  fair  a  shaft,  he  drew  and  loosed, 
And  the  keen  arrow  clove  the  sky,  and  drave 
Right  through  the  farthest  drum,  nor  stayed  its 

flight, 


JBooft  tbe  Second.  43 

But  skimmed  the  plain  beyond,  past  reach  of 
eye. 

Then  Devadatta  challenged  with  the  sword, 
And  clove  a  Talas-tree  six  fingers  thick  ; 
Ardjuna  seven  ;  and  Nanda  cut  through  nine  ; 
But  two  such  stems  together  grew,  and  both 
Siddartha's  blade  shred  at  one  flashing  stroke. 
Keen,  but  so  smooth  that  the  straight  trunks 

upstood, 
And  Nanda  cried,  "  His  edge  turned  !  "  and 

the  maid 
Trembled  anew  seeing  the  trees  erect, 
Until  the  Devas  of  the  air,  who  watched, 
Blew  light  breaths  from  the  south,  and  both 

green  crowns 
Crashed  in  the  sand,  clean-felled. 

Then  brought  they  steeds, 
High-mettled,     nobly-bred,    and   three    times 

scoured 
Around  the  maidan,  but  white  Kantaka 
Left  even  the  fleetest  far  behind — so  swift, 
That  ere  the  foam  fell  from^his  mouth  to  earth 
Twenty   spear-lengths    he   flew;    but   Nanda 

said, 
*'  We  too  might  win  with  such  as  Kantaka  ; 
Bring  an  unbroken  horse,  and  let  men  see 


44  ^bc  %iQht  of  B6fa. 

Who  best  can  back  him."  So  the  syces  brought 
A  stallion  dark  as  night,  led  by  three  chains, 
Fierce-eyed,   with   nostrils   wide   and  tossing 

mane. 
Unshod,  unsaddled,  for  no  rider  yet 
Had  crossed  him.     Three  times  each  young 

Sakya 
Sprung  to  his  mighty  back,  but  the  hot  steed 
Furiously  reared,  and  flung  them  to  the  plain, 
In  dust  and  shame ;  only  Ardjuna  held 
His  seat  awhile,  and,  bidding  loose  the  chains. 
Lashed  the  black  flank,  and  shook  the  bit,  and 

held 
The  proud  jaws  fast  with  grasp  of  master-hand, 
So  that  in  storms  of  wrath  and  rage  and  fear 
The  savage  stallion  circled  once  the  plain, 
Half-tamed  ;    but  sudden  turned  with  naked 

teeth, 
Gripped  by  the  foot  Ardjuna,  tore  him  down, 
And   would  have  slain   him,  but  the  grooms 

ran  in 
Fettering  the  maddened  beast.     Then  all  men 

cried,  * 

"Let  not  Siddartha  meddle  with  this  Bhut, 
Whose  liver  is  a  tempest,  and  his  blood 
Red  flame  ;  "  but  the  Prince  said,  "  Let  go  the 

chains. 


JiSook  tbeSeconD*  45 

Give  me  his  forelock  only,"  which  he  held 
With    quiet   grasp,  and,    speaking   some   low 

word, 
Laid  his  right  palm  across  the  stallion's  eyes, 
And  drew  it  gently  down  the  angry  face, 
And  all  along  the  neck  and  panting  flanks, 
Till  men  astonished  saw  the  night-black  horse 
Sink  his  fierce  crest  and  stand  subdued  and 

meek, 
As  though  he  knew  our  Lord  and  worshipped 

him. 
Nor  stirred  he  while  Siddartha  mounted,  then 
Went  soberly  to  touch  of  knee  and  rein 
Before  all  eyes,  so  that  the  people  said, 
*'  Strive  no  more,  for  Siddartha  is  the  best." 

And  all  the  suitors  answered  "  He  is  best  1 " 
And  Suprabuddha,  father  of  the  maid. 
Said,  "  It  was  in  our  hearts  to  find  thee  best, 
Being  dearest,  yet   what   magic   taught   thee 

more 
Of   manhood    'mid   thy  rose-bowers    and  thy 

dreams 
Than  war  and  chase  and  world's  work  bring 

to  these  ? 
But  wear,  fair  Prince,  the  treasure  thou  hast 


46  ^bc  Xlabt  of  B6ia» 

Then  at  a  word  the  lovely  Indian  girl 

Rose  from  her  place  above  the  throng,  and 

took 
A  crown  of  mogra-flowers  and  lightly  drew 
The  veil  of  black  and  gold  across  her  brow, 
Proud  pacing  past  the  youths,  until  she  came 
To  where  Siddartha  stood  in  grace  divine, 
New  lighted  from  the  night-dark  steed,  which 

bent 
Its  strong  neck  meekly  underneath  his  arm. 
Before  the  Prince  lowly  she  bowed,  and  bared 
Her  face  celestial  beaming  with  glad  love  ; 
Then   on    his   neck  she    hung    the   fragrant 

wreath. 
And  on  his  breast  she  laid  her  perfect  head, 
Aud  stooped  to  touch  his  feet  with  proud  glad 

eyes. 
Saying,  "  Dear   Prince,  behold   me,  who   am 

thine  !  " 
And  all  the  throng  rejoiced,  seeing  them  pass, 
Hand  fast  in  hand,  and    heart  beating  with 

heart, 
The  veil  of  black  and  gold  drawn  close  again. 

Long  after — when  enlightenment  was  come — 
They  prayed  Lord  Buddha  touching  all,  and 
why 


:©ooft  tbe  ScconD.  47 

She  wore  this  black  and  gold,  and  stepped  so 

proud. 
And  the  World-honored  answered,  "  Unto  me 
This   was   unknown,    albeit    it    seemed   half- 
known  ; 
For  while  the  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns 

round, 
Past  things   and  thoughts,    and   buried   lives 

come  back. 
I  now  remember,  myriad  rains  ago, 
What  time  I  roamed  Himala's  hanging  woods, 
A  tiger,  wdth  my  striped  and  hungry  kind  ; 
I,  who  am  Buddh,  couched  in  the  kusa  grass 
Gazing   with   green   blinked   eyes    upon   the 

herds 
Which  pastured  near  and  nearer  to  their  death 
Round  my  day-lair ;  or  underneath  the  stars 
I  roamed  for  prey,  savage,  insatiable, 
Sniffing  the  paths  for  track  of  man  and  deer. 
Amid  the  beasts  that  were  my  fellows  then, 
Met  in  deep  jungle  or  by  reedy  jheel, 
A  tigress,  comeliest  of  the  forest,  set 
The  males  at  war ;  her  hide  was  lit  with  gold, 
Black-broidered  like  the  veil  Yasodhara 
Wore  for  me  ;    hot  the   strife  waxed  in  that 

wood 
With  tooth  and  claw,  while  underneath  a  neem 


48  ^be  %\Qbt  ot  Bsla. 

The  fair  beast  watched  us  bleed,  thus  fiercelj 

wooed. 
And  I  remember,  at  the  end  she  came 
Snarling  past  this  and  that  torn  forest-lord 
Which   I    had    conquered,  and  with  fawning 

jaws 
Licked  my  quick-heaving  flank,  and  with  me 

went 
Into  the  wild  with  proud  steps,  amorously. 
The  wheel  of  birth  and  death  turns  low  and 

high." 

Therefore   the   maid   was    given   unto   the 

Prince 
A  willing  spoil ;    and   when  the   stars   were 

good — 
Mesha,  the  Red  Ram,  being  Lord  of  heaven — 
The  marriage-feast  was  kept,  as  Sakyas  use, 
The  golden  gadi  set,  the  carpet  spread. 
The  wedding  garlands  hung,  the  arm-threads 

tied. 
The   sweet-cake    broke,   the    rice   and    attar 

thrown, 
The  two  straws  floated  on  the  reddened  milk, 
Which,    coming    close,    betokened    love   till 

death ; " 
The  seven  steps  taken  thrice  around  the  fire, 


JSooft  tbe  ScconD. 


49 


The  gifts  bestowed  on  holy  men,  the  alms 
And  temple  offerings  made,  the  mantras  sung, 
The   garments    of   the  bride  and  bridegroom 

tied. 
Then   the   grey   father   spake :    "  Worshipful 

Prince, 
She  that  was  ours  henceforth  is  only  thine ; 
Be  good  to  her,  who  hath  her  life  ^n  thee." 
Wherewith  they  brought   home    sweet   Yaso- 

dhara. 
With  songs   and   trumpets,    to   the    Prince's 

arms, 
And  love  was  all  in  all. 

Yet  not  to  love 
Alone  trusted  the  King ;  love's  prison-house 
Stately  and  beautiful  he  bade  them  build, 
So  that  in  all  the  earthy  no  marvel  was 
Like  Vishramvan,  the  Prince's  pleasure-place. 
Midway   in  those   wide  palace-grounds  there 

rose 
A  verdant  hill  whose  base  Rohini  bathed. 
Murmuring  adown  from  Himalay's  broad  feet, 
To  bear  its  tribute  into  Gunga's  waves. 
Southward  a  growth  of  tamarind  trees  and  sal. 
Thick  set  with  pale  sky-colored  ganthi  flowers, 
Shut  out  the  world,  save  if  the  city's  hum 
Came  on  the  wind  no  harsher  than  when  bees 

4 


50  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsfa. 

Hum  out  of   sight  in   thickets.     Northwards 

soared 
The  stainless  ramps  of  huge  Himala's  wall, 
Ranged   in  white   ranks   against   the   blue — 

untrod, 
Infinite,  wonderful — whose  uplands  vast, 
And  lifted  universe  of  crest  and  crag, 
Shoulder  and  shelf,  green  slope  and  icy  horn. 
Riven  ravine,  and  splintered  precipice 
Led  climbing  thought  higher  and  higher,  until 
It  seemed  to  stand  in  heaven  and  speak  with 

gods. 
Beneath  the  snows  dark  forests  spread,  sharp 

laced 
With  leaping  cataracts  and  veiled  with  clouds : 
Lower  grew  rose-oaks  and  the  great  fir  groves 
Where  echoed  pheasant's  call  and  panther's 

cry, 
Clatter   of  wild   sheep   on    the    stones,    and 

scream 
Of  circling  eagles  :  under  these  the  plain 
Gleamed  like  a  praying-carpet  at  the  foot 
Of  those  divinest  altars.     Fronting  this 
The  builders  set  the  bright  pavilion  up. 
Fair-planted  on  the  terraced  hill,  with  towers 
On  either  flank  and  pillared  cloisters  round. 
Its  beams  were  carved  with  stories  of  old  time — 


:©ooft  tbe  SeconD*  51 

Radha  and  Krishna  and  the  sylvan  girls — 
Sita  and  Hanuman  and  Draupadi ; 
And  on  the  middle  porch  God  Ganesha, 
With   disc   and  hook — to   bring  wisdom  and 

wealth — 
Propitious  sate,  wreathing  his  sidelong  trunk. 
By  winding  ways  of  garden  and  of  court 
The    inner    gate     was    reached,    of    marble 

wrought, 
White  with  pink  veins  ;  the  lintel  lazuli, 
The  threshold  alabaster,  and  the  doors 
Sandal-wood,  cut  in  pictured  panelling  ; 
Whereby  to  lofty  halls  and  shadowy  bowers 
Passed  the  delighted  foot,  on  stately  stairs. 
Through    latticed    galleries,    'neath    painted 

roofs 
And  clustering  columns,  where  cool  fountains 

— fringed 
With  lotus  and  nelumbo — danced,  and  fish 
Gleamed  through  their  crystal,  scarlet,  gold, 

and  blue. 
Great-eyed  gazelles  in  sunny  alcoves  browsed 
The  blown  red  roses ;  birds  of  rainbow  wing 
Fluttered  among  the  palms  ;  doves,  green  and 

Built  their  safe  nests  on  gilded  cornices ; 
Over  the  shining  pavements  peacocks  drew 


52  ^be  Xf0bt  of  Bsfa. 

The  splendors  of  their  trains,  sedately  watched 
By   milk-white   herons   and  the  small  house- 
owls. 
The  plum-necked  parrots  swung  from  fruit  to 

fruit ; 
The  yellow  sunbirds  whirred  from  bloom  to 

bloom, 
The  timid  lizards  on  the  lattice  basked 
Fearless,  tlie  squirrels  ran  to  feed  from  hand, 
For  all  was  peace  :  the  shy  black  snake,  that 

gives 
Fortune  to  households,  sunned  his  sleepy  coils 
Under  the  moon-flowers,  where  the  musk-deer 

played. 
And   brown-eyed   monkeys   chattered   to  the 

crows. 
And  all  this  house  of  love  was  peopled  fair 
With  sweet  attendance,  so  that  in  each  part 
With  lovely  sights  were  gentle  faces  found, 
Soft  speech  and  willing  service,  each  one  glad 
To   gladden,   pleased  at   pleasure,    proud  to 

obey; 
Till  life  glided  beguiled,  like  a  smooth  stream 
Banked  by  perpetual  flow'rs,  Yasodhara 
Queen  of  the  enchanting  Court. 

But  innermost^ 
Beyond  the  richness  of  those  hundred  halls, 


3i5oo?i  tbe  SeconO. 


53 


A   secret   chamber   lurked,    where   skill    had 

spent 
All  lovely  fantasies  to  lull  the  mind. 
The  entrance  of  it  was  a  cloistered  square- 
Roofed  to  the  sky,  and  in  the  midst  a  tank — 
Of  milky  marble  built,  and  laid  with  slabs 
Of   milk-white  marble ;    bordered   round  the 

tank 
And  on  the  steps,  and  all  along  the  frieze 
With  tender  inlaid  work  of  agate-stones. 
Cool  as  to  tread  in  summer-time  on  snows 
It  was  to  loiter  there  ;    the  sunbeams  dropped 
Their  gold,  and,  passing  into  porch  and  niche, 
Softened  to  shadows,  silvery,  pale,  and  dim, 
As  if  the  very  Day  paused  and  grew  Eve 
In  love  and  silence  at  that  bower's  gate  ; 
For  there  beyond  the  gate  the  chamber  was, 
Beautiful,  sweet ;  a  wonder  of  the  world  ! 
Soft    light    from    perfumed    lamps     through 

windows  fell 
Of  nakre  and  stained  stars  of  lucent  film 
On  golden  cloths  outspread,  and  silken  beds, 
And  heavy  splendor  of  the  purdah's  fringe, 
Lifted  to  take  only  the  loveliest  in. 
Here,  whether  it  was  night  or  day,  none  knew, 
For  always  streamed  that  softened  light,  more 

bright 


54  ^bc  Xigbt  of  Bsia* 

Than  sunrise,  but  as  tender  as  the  eve's  ; 
And  always  breathed   sweet  airs,   more  joy- 
giving 
Than   morning's,   but  as    cool    as  midnight's 

breath ; 
And  night  and  day  lutes  sighed,  and  night  and 

day 
Delicious  foods  were  spread,  and  dewy  fruits, 
Sherbets  new  chilled  with  snows  of  Himalay, 
And  sweetmeats  made  of  subtle  daintiness. 
With  sweet  tree-milk  in  its  own  ivory  cup. 
And   night   and   day  served   there    a  chosen 

band 
Of  nautch  girls,  cup-bearers,  and  cymballers, 
Delicate,  dark-browed  ministers  of  love, 
Who  fanned  the  sleeping  eyes  of  the   happy 

Prince, 
And  when  he  \vaked,  led  back  his  thoughts  to 

bliss 
With   music  whispering  through  the  blooms, 

and  charm 
Of  amorous  songs  and  dreamy  dances,  linked 
By  chime  of  ankle-bells  and  wave  of  arms 
And  silver  vina-strings  ;  while  essences 
Of   musk   and   champak  and  the    blue  haze 

spread 
From  burning  spices  soothed  his  soul  again 


3Booft  tbe  ScconD.  55 

To  drowse  by  sweet  Yasodhara  ;  and  thus 
Siddartha  lived  forgetting. 

Furthermore, 
The  King  commanded  that  within  those  walls 
No  mention  should  be  made  of  death  or  age, 
Sorrow,  or  pain,  or  sickness.     If  one  drooped 
In  the  lovely  Court — her  dark  glance  dim,  her 

feet 
Faint  in  the  dance — the  guiltless  criminal 
Passed  forth  an  exile  from  that  Paradise, 
Lest  he  should  see  and  suffer  at  her  woe. 
Bright-eyed  intendants  watched  to  execute 
Sentence  on  such  as  spake  of  the  harsh  world 
Without,  where  aches  and  plagues  were,  tears 

and  fears. 
And  wail  of  mourners,  and  grim  fume  of  pyres. 
'Twas  treason  if  a  thread  of  silver  strayed 
In  tress  of  singing-girl  or  nautch-dancer  • 
And  every  dawn  the  dying  rose  was  plucked, 
The  dead  leaves  hid,  all  evil  sights  removed : 
For    said    the    King,   "  If   he   shall   pass  his 

youth 
Far  from  such  things  as  move  to  wistfulness, 
And  brooding  on  the  empty  eggs  of  thought, 
The  shadow  of  this  fate,  too  vast  for  man, 
May  fade,  belike,  and  I  shall  see  him  grow 
To  that  great  stature  of  fair  sovereignty 


56  ^be  Xigbt  of  Bsia. 

When  he  shall  rule  all  lands — if  he  will  rule — 
The  King  of  kings  and  glory  of  his  time." 

Wherefore,     around    that    pleasant    prison- 
house — 
Where  love  was  gaoler  and  delights  its  bars, 
But  far  removed  from  sight — the  King  bade 

build 
A  massive  wall,  and  in  the  wall  a  gate 
With  brazen  folding-doors,  which  but  to  roll 
Back  on  their  hinges  asked  a  hundred  arms  ; 
Also  the  noise  of  that  prodigious  gate 
Opening,  was  heard  full  half  a  yojana. 
And  inside  this  another  gate  he  made. 
And  yet  within  another — through  the  three 
Must  one  pass  if  he  quit  that  Pleasure-house. 
Three   mighty  gates  there  were,  bolted   and 

barred. 
And  over  each  was  set  a  faithful  watch ; 
And  the  King's  order  said,  "  Suffer  no  man 
To  pass  the  gates,  though  he  should  be  the 

Prince  : 
This  on  your  lives — even  though  it  be  my  son." 


goofe  the  (T^liM. 


In  which  calm  home  of  happy  life  and  love 
Ligged  our  Lord  Buddha,  knowing  not  of  woe^ 
Nor  want,  nor  pain,  nor  plague,  nor   age,  nor 

death, 
Save   as   when   sleepers    roam    dim    seas   in 

dreams, 
And  land  awearied  on  the  shores  of  day. 
Bringing  strange  merchandise  from  that  black 

voyage. 
Thus  ofttimes  when  he  lay  with  gentle  head 
Lulled  on  the  dark  breasts  of  Yasodhara, 
Her  fond  hands  fanning  slow  his  sleeping  lids, 
He  would  start  up  and  cry,  "  My  world  !     Oh, 

world  ! 
I  hear  !     I  know  !     I  come  !  "     And  she  would 

ask, 
"  What  ails  my  Lord  ?  "  with  large  eyes  terror- 
struck  ; 
For  at  such  times  the  pity  in  his  look 
Was  awful,  and  his  visage  like  a  god's. 


57 


58  Zbc  Xiflbt  of  Bsla. 

Then  would  he  smile  again  to  stay  her  tears, 
And  bid  the  vinas  sound  ;  but  once  they  set 
A  stringed  gourd  on  the  sill,  there  where  the 

wind 
Could  linger  o'er  its  notes  and  play  at  will — 
Wild  music  makes  the  wind  on  silver  strings — 
And  those  who  lay  around  heard  only  that ; 
But  Prince  Siddartha  heard  the  Devas  play, 
And   to   his   ears   they   sang  such   words   as 

these  : — 

We  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind, 
Which  moan  for  rest  and  rest  can  never  find ; 
Lo  !  as  the  wind  is  so  is  mortal  life, 
A  moon,  a  sigh,  a  sob,  a  storm,  a  strife. 

Wherefore  and  whence  we  are  ye  cannot  know, 
Nor  where  life  springs  nor  whither  life  doth  go  ; 
We  are  as  ye  are,  ghosts  from  the  inane, 
AVhat  pleasure  have  we  of  our  changeful  pain  ? 

What  pleasure  hast  thou  of  thy  changeless  bliss  ? 
Nay,  if  love  lasted,  there  were  joy  in  this  ; 
But  life's  way  is  the  wind's  way,  all  these  things 
Are  but  brief  voices  breathed  on  shifting  strings. 

O  Maya's  son  !  because  we  roam  the  earth 
Moan  we  upon  these  strings ;  we  make  no  mirth. 
So  many  woes  wfe  see  in  many  lands, 
So  many  streaming  eyes  and  wringing  hands. 


:©ooft  tbe  ITbirD.  59 

Yet  mock  we  while  we  wail,  for,  could  they  know, 
This  life  they  cling  to  is  but  empty  show ; 
'Twere  all  as  well  to  bid  a  cloud  to  stand, 
Or  hold  a  running  river  with  the  hand. 

But  thou  that  art  to  save,  thine  hour  is  nigh  ! 
The  sad  world  waiteth  in  its  misery. 
The  blind  world  stumbleth  on  its  round  of  pain; 
Rise,  Maya's  child  !  wake  !  slumber  not  again  ! 

We  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind : 
Wander  thou,  too,  O  Prince,  thy  rest  to  find  ; 
Leave  love  for  love  of  lovers,  for  woe's  sake 
Quit  state  for  sorrow,  and  deliverance  make. 

So  sigh  we,  passing  o'er  the  silver  strings. 

To  thee  who  know'st  not  yet  of  earthly  things  ; 

So  say  we  ;  mocking,  as  we  pass  away, 

These  lovely  shadows  wherewith  thou  dost  play. 

Thereafter  it  befell  he  sate  at  eve 
Amid  his  beauteous  Court,  holding  the  hand 
Of  sweet  Yasodhara,  and    some  maid  told — 
With   breaks  of   music   when    her  rich    voice 

dropped — 
An  ancient  tale  to  speed  the  hour  of  dusk, 
Of  love,  and  of  a  magic  horse,  and  lands 
Wonderful,  distant,  where  pale  peoples  dwelled, 
And  where  the  sun  at  night  sank  into  seas. 
Then  spake  he,   sighing,   "  Chitra  brings  me 

back 


6o  ^be  Xigbt  of  Bsia. 

The  wind's  song  in  the  strings  with  that  fail 

tale. 
Give  her,  Yasodhara,  thy  pearl  for  thanks. 
Eut  thou,  my  pearl !  is  there  so  wide  a  world .'' 
Is  there  a  land  which  sees   the  great  sun  roll 
Into  the  waves,  and  are  there  hearts  like  ours, 
Countless,  unknown,  not  happy — it  may  be — 
Whom  we  might  succor  if   we  knew  of  them  ? 
Ofttimes  I  marvel,  as  the  Lord  of  day 
Treads  from  the  east  his  kingly  road  of  gold. 
Who  first  on  the  world's   edge  hath  hailed  his 

beam, 
The  children  of  the  morning  ;  oftentimes, 
Even  in  thine  arms  and  on  thy  breasts,  bright 

wife, 
Sore  have  I  panted,  at  the  sun's  decline, 
To  pass  with  him  into  that  crimson  west 
And  see  the  peoples  of  the  evening. 
There   must  be   many  we   should   love — how 

else  ? 
Now  have  I  in  this  hour  an  ache,  at  last, 
Thy  soft  lips  cannot  kiss  away :  oh,  girl ! 
O  Chitra  !  you  that  know  of  fairyland  ! 
Where  tether  they  that  swift  steed  of  the  tale  ? 
My  palace  for  one  day  upon  his  back, 
To  ride  and  ride  and  see  the  spread  of  the 

earth ! 


:©ooft  tbe  Zbiv^.  6i 

Na}',  if  I  had  yon  callow  vulture's  plumes — 
The  carrion  heir  of  wider  realms  than  mine — • 
How  would  I  stretch  for  topmost  Himalay, 
Light  where  the  rose-gleam   lingers  on   those 

snows, 
And  strain  my  gaze  with   searching  what  is 

round ! 
Why  have  I  never  seen  and  never  sought  ? 
Tell  me   what  lies  beyond   our  brazen  gates." 

Then    one    replied,    "  The    city   first,    fair 

Prince  ! 
The  temples,  and  the  gardens,  and  the  groves. 
And  then  the  fields,  and  afterwards  fresh  fields. 
With  nullahs,  maidans,  jungle,  koss  on  koss ; 
And  next  King  Bimbasara's  realm,  and  then 
The  vast  flat  world,  with    crores  on    crores  of 

folk." 
"Good,"  said  Siddartha,  "  let  the  word  be  sent 
That  Channa  yoke  my  chariot — at  noon 
To-morrow  I  shall  ride  and  see  beyond." 

Whereof  they  told  the  King :  "  Our  Lord, 
thy  son. 
Wills  that  his  chariot  be  yoked  at  noon. 
That  he  may  ride  abroad   and  see  mankind." 


62  ^be  XiQbt  ot  Bsla, 

"  Yea  !  "  spake  the  careful  King,  "  'tis  time 

he  see ! 
But  let  the  criers  go  about  and  bid 
My  city  deck  itself,  so  there  be  met 
No  noisome    sight ;     and   let   none  blind   or 

maimed, 
None  that  is  sick  or  stricken  deep  in  years, 
No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  come  forth." 
Therefore  the  stones  were  swept,  and  up   and 

down 
The  water-carriers  sprinkled  all  the  streets 
From  spirting  skins,  the  housewives   scattered 

fresh 
Red   powder  on  their   thresholds,  strung  new 

wreaths. 
And  trimmed  the  tulsi-bush  before  their  doors. 
The  paintings  on  the  walls  were  heightened  up 
With  liberal  brush,  the  trees  set  thick  with  flags, 
The  idols  gilded  ;  in  the  four-went  ways 
Suryadeva  and  the  great  gods  shone 
'Mid  shrines  of  leaves  ;  so  that  the  city  seemed 
A  capital  of  some  enchanted  land. 
Also  the  criers  passed,  with  drum  and  gong. 
Proclaiming  loudly,  "  Ho  !  all  citizens. 
The  King  commands  that  there  be  seen  to-day 
No  evil  sight :  let  no  one  blind  or  maimed, 
None  that  is  sick  or  stricken  deep  in  years, 


JBooft  tbe  ^birO.  63 

No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  go  forth. 

Let  none,  too,  burn    his  dead  nor   bring  them 

out 
Till  nightfall.     Thus  Suddhodana  commands." 

So  all  was  comely  and  the  houses  trim 
Throughout  Kapilavastu,  while  the  Prince 
Came  forth  in  painted    car,  which  two    steers 

drew, 
Snow-white,  with  swinging  dewlaps  and  huge 

humps 
Wrinkled  against  the  carved   and   lacquered 

yoke. 
Goodly  it  was  to  mark  the  people's  joy 
Greeting  their   Prince ;    and  glad    Siddartha 

waxed 
At  sight  of  all  those  liege  and  friendly  folk 
Bright-clad  and  laughing  as  if  life  were   good. 
*'  Fair  is  the  world,"  he  said,  "  it  likes  me  well ! 
And  light  and   kind  these  men  that   are   not 

kings. 
And  sweet  my  sisters  here,  who  toil  and  tend  ; 
What  have  I  done  for  these  to  make  them  thus  ? 
Why,  if   I    love   them,  should   those  children 

know .'' 
I  pray  take  up  yon  pretty  Sakya  boy 
Who  flung  us  flowers,  and  let  him  ride  with  me. 


64  ^be  Xtgbt  of  Bsla* 

How  good  it  is  to  reign  in  realms  like  this  I 
How  simple  pleasure  is,  if  these  be  pleased 
Because  I  come  abroad  !     How  many  things 
I  need  not  if  such  little  households  hold 
Enough  to  make  our  city  full  of  smiles ! 
Drive,  Channa !  through  the  gates,  and  let  me 

see 
More  of  this  gracious  world  I  have  not  known." 

So  passed  they  through  the  gates,  a  joyous 

crowd 
Thronging  about  the  wheels,  whereof  some  ran 
Before   the    oxen,    throwing    wreaths,    some 

stroked 
Their  silken   flanks,  some    brought  them  rice 

and  cakes. 
All  crying,  "  Jai  f  jai  !  for  our  noble  Prince  !  " 
Thus  all  the  path  was  kept  with  gladsome  looks 
And  filled  with   fair  sights — for  the    King's 

word  was 
That  such  should   be — when  midway  in   the 

road. 
Slow  tottering  from  the  hovel  where  he  hid. 
Crept  forth  a  wretch  in   rags,    haggard  and 

foul. 
An  old,  old  man,  whose   shrivelled   skin,    sun- 
tanned. 


J5ook  tbe  Zbivtf,  65 

Clung  like  a  beast's  hide  to  his  fleshless  bones. 
Bent  was  his  back  with  load  of  many  days, 
His  eyepits  red  with  rust  of  ancient  tears, 
His  dim  orbs  blear  with  rheum,  his  toothless 

jaws 
Wagging  with  palsy  and  the  fright  to  see 
So  many  and  such  joy.     One  skinny  hand 
Clutched  a  worn  staff  to  prop  his  quavering 

limbs, 
And  one  was  pressed  upon  the  ridge  of  ribs 
Whence   came   in  gasps   the    heavy   painful 

breath. 
"  Alms  !  "  moaned  he,  "  give,  good  people !  for 

Idle 
To-morrow  or  the  next  day  !  "  then  the  cough 
Choked  him,  but  still  he  stretched  his  palm, 

and  stood 
Blinking,    and    groaning    'mid    his    spasms, 

''  Alms  !  " 
Then  those  around  had  wrenched  his  feeble 

feet 
Aside,  and  thrust  him  from  the  road  again, 
Saying,   "  The  Prince  !  dost  see  ?  get  to  thy 

lair ! " 
But  that  Siddartha  cried,  "  Let  be !  let  be  ! 
Channa  !  what  thing  is  this  who  seems  a  man, 
Yet  surely  only  seems,  being  so  bowed, 

5 


66  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsia. 

So  miserable,  so  horrible,  so  sad  ? 

Are  men  born  sometimes  thus  ?   What  meaneth 

he 
Moaning  '  to-morrow  or  next  day  I  die  ? ' 
Finds  he  no  food  that  so  his  bones  jut  forth  ? 
What  woe  hath  happened  to  this  piteous  one  ?  " 
Then   answer   made   the   charioteer,   "  Sweet 

Prince ! 
This  is  no  other  than  an  aged  man. 
Some    fourscore    years    ago    his    back    was 

straight, 
His  eye  bright,  and  his  body  goodly  :  now 
The  thievish  years  have  sucked  his  sap  away, 
Pillaged  his  strength  and  filched  his  will  and 

wit; 
His  lamp  has  lost  its  oil,  the  wick  burns  black  ; 
What  life  he  keeps  is  one  poor  lingering  spark 
Which  flickers  for  the  finish  :  such  is  age  ; 
Why   should   your  Highness  heed  ? "     Then 

spake  the  Prince — 
"  But  shall  this  come  to  others,  or  to  all, 
Or  is  it  rare  that  one  should  be  as  he  ?  " 
"  Most  noble,"  answered  Channa,  "  even  as  he. 
Will  all  these  grow  if  they  shall  live  so  long." 
"But,"  quoth  the  Prince,  "if  I  shall  live  as 

long 
Shall  I  be  thus  :  and  if  Yasodhara 


:fiSooft  tbe  XTbirD,  67 

Live  fourscore  years,  is  this  old  age  for  her, 

Jalini,  little  Hasta,  Gautami, 

And  Gunga,  and  the  others?"     "Yea,  great 

Sir  ! " 
The    Charioteer    replied.      Then    spake   the 

Prince  : 
*'  Turn  back,  and  drive  me  to  my  house  again  ! 
I  have  seen  that  I  did  not  think  to  see." 

Which  pondering,  to   his   beauteous  Court 

returned 
Wistful  Siddartha,  sad  of  mein  and  mood ; 
Nor  tasted  he  the  white  cakes  nor  the  fruits 
Spread  for  the  evening  feast,  nor  once  looked  up 
While  the  best  palace-dancers  strove  to  charm  : 
Nor  spake — save  one  sad  thing — when  wofully 
Yasodhara  sank  to  his  feet  and  wept, 
Sighing,  "  Hath  not  my  Lord  comfort  in  me  ?  " 
"  Ah,  Sweet !  "  he  said,    "  such  comfort   that 

my  soul 
Aches,  thinking  it  must  end,  for  it  will  end. 
And  we  shall  both  grow  old,  Yasodhara  ! 
Loveless,  unlovely,  weak,  and  old,  and  bowed. 
Nay,  though  we  locked  up  love  and   life  with 

lips 
So  close  that  night  and  day  our  breaths  grew 

one. 


68  XTbe  XlQbt  of  Bsia* 

Time  would  thrust  in  between  to  filch  away 
My  passion   and  thy   grace,  as   black    Night 

steals 
The  rose-gleams  from  yon  peak,  which  fade  to 

grey 
And  are  not  seen  to  fade.     This  have  I  found. 
And  all  my  heart  is  darkened  with  its  dread, 
And  all  my  heart  is  fixed  to  think  how  Love 
Might  save  its  sweetness  from  the  slayer,  Time, 
Who  makes  men  old."     So  through  that  night 

he  sate 
Sleepless,  uncomforted. 

And  all  that  night 
The    King   Suddhodana    dreamed    troublous 

dreams. 
The  first  fear  of  his  vision  was  a  flag 
Broad,  glorious,  glistening  with  a  golden  sun. 
The  mark  of  Indra  ;  but  a  strong  wind  blew. 
Rending  its  folds  divine,  and  dashing  it 
Into  the  dust ;  whereat  a  concourse  came 
Of  shadowy  Ones,  who  took  the  spoiled  silk 

And  bore  it  eastward  from  the  city  gates. 
The  second  fear  was  ten  huge  elephants. 
With  silver  tusks  and  feet  that  shook  the  earth, 
Trampling  the  southern  road  in  mighty  march  ; 


:fl5oo?i  tbc  ^birD.  69 

And  he  who  sate  upon  the  foremost  beast 
Was  the  King's  son — the  others  followed  him. 
The  third  fear  of  the  vision  was  a  car, 
Shining  with  blinding  light,  which  four  steeds 

drew, 
Snorting  white  smoke  and  champing  fiery  foam  ; 
And  in  the  car  the  Prince  Siddartha  sate. 
The  fourth  fear  was  a  wheel  which  turned  and 

turned. 
With  nave  of  burning  gold  and  jewelled  spokes, 
And  strange  things  written  on  the  binding  tire. 
Which  seemed  both  fire  and  music  as  it  whirled. 
The  fifth  fear  was  a  mighty  drum,  set  down 
Midway  between  the  city  and  the  hills. 
On  which  the  Prince  beat  with  an  iron  mace. 
So  that  the  sc>und  pealed  like  a  thunderstorm, 
Rolling  around  the  sky  and  far  away. 
The  sixth  fear  was  a  tower,  which  rose  and  rose 
High  o'er  the  city  till  its  stately  head 
Shone  crowned  with  clouds,  and  on  the  top  the 

Prince 
Stood,  scattering  from  both  hands,   this  way 

and  that. 
Gems  of  most  lovely  light,  as  if  it  rained 
Jacynths    and  rubies ;    and   the   whole    world 

came. 
Striving  to  seize  those  treasures  as  they  fell 


70  Zbc  XlQbt  of  Bsfa. 

Towards  the  four  quarters.     But  the  seventh 

fear  was 
A  noise  of  wailing,  and  behold  six  men 
Who  wept  and  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  laid 

their  palms 
Upon  their  mouths,  walking  disconsolate. 

These  seven  fears  made  the  vision  of  his 

sleep. 
But  none  of  all  his  wisest  dream-readers 
Could  tell  their  meaning.     Then  the  King  was 

wroth, 
Saying,  "  There  cometh  evil  to  my  house, 
And  none  of  ye  have  wit  to  help  me  know 
What  the  great  gods  portends  sending  me  this.'^ 
So  in  the  city  men  went  sorrowful 
Because  the  King  had  dreamed  seven  signs  of 

fear 
Which  none  could  read  ;  but  to  the  gate  there 

came 
An  aged  man,  in  robe  of  deer-skin  clad. 
By  guise  a  hermit,  known  to  none ;  he  cried, 
"  Bring  me  before  the  King,  for  I  can  read 
The  vision  of  his  sleep ; "  who,  when  he  heard 
The  sevenfold  mysteries  of  the  midnight  dream. 
Bowed  reverent  and  said,  "  O  Maharaj ! 
I  hail  this  favored  House,  whence  shall  arise 


JSooft  tbe  XTbirD, 


71 


A  wider-reaching  splendor  than  the  sun's ! 
Lo  !  all  these  seven  fears  are  seven  joys, 
Whereof  the  first,  where  thou  didst  see  a  flag — 
Broad,  glorious,  gilt  with  Indra's  badge — cast 

down 
And  carried  out,  did  signify  the  end 
Of  old  faiths  and  beginning  of  the  new, 
For  there  is  change  with  gods  not  less  than 

men. 
And  as  the  days  pass  kalpas  pass  at  length. 
The  ten  great  elephants  that  shook  the  earth 
The  ten  great  gifts  of  wisdom  signify. 
In  strength  whereof  the  Prince  shall  quit  his 

state 
And  shake  the  world  with  passage  of  the  Truth. 
The  four  flame-breathing  horses  of  the  car 
Are   those   four  fearless  virtues  which   shall 

bring 
Thy   son  from  doubt  and  gloom  to  gladsome 

light; 
The  wheel  that  turned  with  nave  of  burning 

gold 
Was  that  most  precious  Wheel  of  perfect  Law 
Which  he  shall  turn  in   sight  of  all  the  world* 
The  mighty  drum  whereon  the  Prince  did  beat, 
Till  the  sound  filled  all  lands,  doth  signify 
The  thunder  of  the  preaching  of  the  Word 


72  ^be  Xiflbt  ot  Bsia, 

Which  he  shall  preach  ;  the  tower  that  grew 

to  heaven 
The  growing  of  the  Gospel  of  this  Buddh 
Sets  forth  ;    and  those  rare  jewels   scattered 

thence 
The  untold  treasures  are  of  that  good  Law 
To  gods  and  men  dear  and  desirable. 
Such  is  the  interpretation  of  the  tower  ; 
But  for    those   six   men   weeping  with   shut 

mouths, 
They  are  the  six  chief  teachers  whom  thy  son 
Shall,    with   bright   truth   and   speech    unan- 
swerable, 
Convince  of  foolishness.     O  King  !  rejoice  ; 
The  fortune  of  my  Lord  the  Prince  is  more 
Than  kingdoms,  and  his  hermit-rags  will  be 
Beyond   fine  cloths   of  gold.     This   was   thy 

dream  ! 
And  in   seven  nights  and  days  these  things 

shall  fall." 
So  spake  the  holy  man,  and  lowly  made 
The   eight  prostrations,   touching   thrice   the 

ground  ; 
Then  turned  and  passed  ;  but  when  the  King 

bade  send 
A  rich  gift  after  him,  the  messengers 
Brought  word,  "We  came  to  where  he  eiv 

tered  in 


JBooli  tbe  ^birD.  73 

At  Chandra's  temple,  but  within  was  none 

Save   a   grey   owl    which    fluttered    from    the 
shrine." 

The  gods  come  sometimes  thus. 

But  the  sad  King 

Marvelled,  and  gave   command  that  new  de- 
lights 

Be  compassed  to  enthrall  Siddartha's  heart 

Amid  those  dancers  of  his  pleasure-house, 

Also  he  set  at  all  the  brazen  doors- 

A  doubled  guard. 

Yet  who  shall  shut  out  Fate  ? 

For  once  again  the  spirit  of  the  Prince 
Was  moved  to  see  this  world  beyond  hi^  gates. 
This  life  of  man,  so  pleasant  if  its  waves 
Ran  not  to  waste  and  woful  finishing 
In  Time's  dry  sands.     ''  I  pray  you  let  me  view 
Our  city  as  it  is,"  such  was  his  prayer 
To  King  Suddhodana.     "Your  Majesty 
In  tender  heed  hath  warned  the  folk  before 
To  put  away  ill  things  and  common-  sights, 
And  make  their  faces  glad  to  gladden  me, 
And  all  the  causeways  gay ;  yet  ha^e  1  learned' 
This  is  not  daily  life,  and  if  I  stand. 
Nearest,  my  father,  to  the  realm  aaidthee, 


74  ^bc  XfQbt  of  Bsia. 

Fain  would  I  know  the  people  and  the  streets, 
Their  simple  usual  ways,  and  workday  deeds, 
And  lives  which  those  men  live  who  are  not 

kings. 
Give  me  good  leave,  dear  Lord !  to  pass  un- 
known 
Beyond  my  happy  gardens  ;  I  shall  come 
The  more  contented  to  their  peace  again, 
Or  wiser,  father,  if  not  well  content. 
Therefore,  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  at  will 
To-morrow,   with    my   servants,    through   the 

streets." 
And  the  King  said,  among  his  Ministers, 
"  Belike  this   second  flight  may  mend  the  first. 
Note  how  the  falcon  starts  at  every  sight 
New  from  his  hood,  but  what  a  quiet  eye 
Cometh  of  freedom ;  let  my  son  see  all. 
And  bid  them  bring  me  tidings  of  his  mind.'* 

Thus   on  the  morrow,  when  the  noon  was 

come. 
The  Prince   and  Channa  passed  beyond  the 

gates. 
Which  opened  to  the  signet  of  the  King ; 
Yet  knew  not  they  who  rolled  the  great  doors 

back 
It  was  the  King's  son  in  that  merchant's  robe, 


JBooft  tbe  EbirO.  75 

And  in  the  clerkly  dress  his  charioteer. 
Forth  fared  they  by  the  common  way  afoot, 
Mingling  with  all  the  Sakya  citizens, 
Seeing  the  glad  and  sad  things  of  the  town  : 
The  painted  streets  alive  with  hum  of  noon, 
The  traders  cross-legged  'mid  their  spice  and 

grain. 
The  buyers  with  their  money  in  the  cloth, 
The  war  of  words  to  cheapen  this  or  that. 
The  shout  to  clear  the  road,  the  huge  stone 

wheels. 
The  strong  slow  oxen  and  their  rustling  loads, 
The  singing  bearers  wath  the  palanquins. 
The  broad-necked  hamals  sw^eating  in  the  sun, 
The  housewives  bearing  water  from  the  well 
With  balanced  chatties,  and  athwart  their  hips 
The  black-eyed  babes  ;  the  fly-swarmed  sweet- 
meat shops. 
The  weaver  at  his  loom,  the  cotton-bow 
Twanging,  the  millstones   grinding  meal,  the 

dogs 
Prowling  for  orts,  the  skilful  armorer 
With  tong  and  hammer  linking  shirts  of  mail, 
The  blacksmith  with  a  mattock  and  a  spear 
Reddening  together  in  his  coals,  the  school 
Where  round  their  Guru,  in  a  grave  half-moon, 
The  Sakya  children  sang  the  mantras  through, 


76  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsfa. 

And  learned  the  greater  and  the  lesser  gods ; 
The  dyers  stretching  waistcloths  in  the  sun 
Wet   from    the    vats — orange,   and   rose,   and 

green ; 
The  soldiers   clanking  past  with  swords  and 

shields. 
The  camel- drivers  rocking  on  the  humps. 
The  Brahman  proud,  the  martial  Kshatriya, 
The  humble  toiling  Sudra ;  here  a  throng 
Gathered   to   watch   some    chattering   snake- 
tamer 
Wind  round  his  wrist  the  living  jewellery 
Of  asp  and  nag,  or  charm  the  hooded  death 
To  angry  dance  with  drone  of  beaded  gourd  ; 
There  a  long  line  of  drums  and  horns,  which 

went. 
With  steeds  gay  painted  and  silk  canopies, 
To  bring  the  young  bride  home ;  and  here  a 

wife 
Stealing  with  cakes  and  garlands  to  the  god 
To  pray  her  husband's  safe  return  from  trade, 
Or  beg  a  boy  next  birth ;  hard  by  the  booths 
Where  the  swart  potters  beat  the  noisy  brass 
For  lamps  and  lotas ;  thence,  by  temple  walls 
And  gateways,  to  the  river  and  the  bridge 
Under  the  city  walls. 

These  had  they  passed 


:fiSooft  tbe  ^btrD*  77 

When  from  the  roadside  moaned  a  mournful 

voice,  • 

"  Help,  masters  !  lift  me  to  my  feet ;  oh,  help! 
Or  I  shall  die  before  I  reach  my  house  ! " 
A    stricken   wretch    it  was,   whose    quivering 

frame. 
Caught  by  some  deadly  plague,  lay  in  the  dust 
Writhing,  with  fiery  purple  blotches  specked ; 
The  chill  sweat  beaded  on  his  brow,  his  mouth 
Was  dragged  awry  with  twitchings  of  sore  pain, 
The  wild  eyes  swam  with  inward  ^gony. 
Gasping,  he  clutched  the  grass  to  rise,  and  rose 
Half-way,    then    sank,    with    quaking  feeble 

limbs 
And  scream  of  terror,  crying,  "Ah,  the  pain ! 
Good  people,  help  !  "  whereon  Siddartha  ran, 
Lifted  the  woful  man  with  tender  hands, 
With  sweet  looks  laid  the  sick  head  on  his 

knee. 
And  while  his  soft  touch  comforted  the  wretch, 
Asked,  "  Brother,  what  is  ill  with  thee  ?  what 

harm 
Hath  fallen  ?  wherefore  canst  thou  not  arise  ? 
Why  is  it,  Channa,  that  he  pants  and  moans. 
And  gasps  to  speak  and  sighs  so  pitiful  ? " 
Then  spake  the  charioteer  :    "  Great  Prince  J 

this  man 


78  ^be  %iQbt  of  Bsia, 

Is  smitten  with  some  pest ;  his  elements 
Ar§all  confounded;  in  his  veins  the  blood, 
Which  ran  a  wholesome  river,  leaps  and  boils 
A  fiery  flood  ;  his  heart,  which  kept  good  time, 
Beats  like  an  ill-played  drum-skin,  quick  and 

slow ; 
His  sinews  slacken  like  a  bow-string  slipped  j 
The  strength  is  gone  from  ham,  and  loin,  and 

neck. 
And  all  the  grace  and  joy  of  manhood  fled: 
This  is  a  sick  man  with  the  fit  upon  him. 
See  how  he  plucks  and  plucks  to  seize  his  grief, 
And  rolls  his  bloodshot  orbs,  and  grinds  his 

teeth, 
And  draws   his   breath  as  if  'twere  choking 

smoke. 
Lo !  now  he  would  be  dead,  but  shall  not  die 
Until  the  plague  hath  had  its  work  in  him, 
Killing  the  nerves  which  die  before  the  life  ; 
Then,   when   his    strings    have    cracked   with 

agony 
And  all  his  bones  are  empty  of  the  sense 
To  ache,  the  plague  will  quit  and  light  else- 
where. 
Oh,  sir  !  it  is  not  good  to  hold  him  so  ! 
The  harm  may  pass,   and  strike  thee,   even 

thee." 


JBook  tbe  CbirD. 


79 


But  spake  the  Prince,  still  comforting  the  man, 
"And  are  there  others,  are  there  many  thus  ? 
Or  might  it  be  to  me  as  now  with  him  ? " 
"  Great  Lord  !  "  answered  the  charioteer,  "  this 

comes 
In  many  forms  to  all  men  ;  griefs  and  wounds, 
Sickness  and  tetters,  palsies,  leprosies. 
Hot  fevers,  watery  wastings,  issues,  blains 
Befall  all  flesh  and  enter  everywhere." 
"  Come  such   ills   unobserved  ? "    the   Prince 

inquired. 
And  Channa  said,   "  Like  the  sly  snake  they 

come 
That  stings  unseen  ;  like  the  striped  murderer. 
Who  waits  to  spring  from  the  Karunda  bush, 
Hiding  beside  the  jungle  path ;  or  like 
The  lightning,  striking  these  and  sparing  those, 
As  chance  may  send." 

"  Then  all  men  live  in  fear }  '* 
"  So  live  they.  Prince  !  " 

"  And  none  can  say,  '  I  sleep 
Happy    and    whole    to-night,    and    so    shall 

wake  .? '  " 
"  None  say  it." 

"  And  the  end  of  many  aches, 
Which  come  unseen,  and  will  come  when  they 

come, 


8o  ^be  Xlgbt  of  Bsia. 

Is  this,  a  broken  body  and  sad  mind, 
And  so  old  age  ?  " 

"  Yea,  if  men  last  as  long." 
"  But  if  they  cannot  bear  their  agonies, 
Or  if  they  will  not  bear,  and  seek  a  term ; 
Or  if  they  bear,  and  be,  as  this  man  is, 
Too    weak    except   for   groans,    and    so    still 

live, 
And    growing   old,   grow    older,    then    what 

end?" 
*'  They  die.  Prince." 

"  Die  ?  " 
"  Yea,  at  the  last  comes  death. 
In  whatsoever  way,  whatever  hour. 
Some    few   grow    old,    most   suffer   and   fall 

sick. 
But  all   must  die — behold,  where   comes  the 

Dead  ! " 

Then  did  Siddartha  raise  his  eyes,  and  see 
Fast  pacing  towards  the  river  brink  a  band 
Of  wailing  people,  foremost  one  who  swung 
An  earthen  bowl,  with  lighted  coals,  behind 
The  kinsmen   shorn,  with   mourning   marks, 

ungirt, 
Crying  aloud,  "  O  Rama,  Rama,  hear  ! 
Call  upon  Rama,  brothers ;  "  next  the  bier, 


moo\{  tbe  ^birD.  8i 

Knit  of  four  poles  with  bamboos  interlaced, 
Whereon    lay,  stark  and   stiff,  feet  foremost, 

lean, 
Chapfallen,  sightless,  hollow-flanked,  a-grin. 
Sprinkled    with    red    and    yellow    dust — the 

Dead, 
Whom  at  the  four-went  ways  they  turned  head 

first. 
And  crying  "  Rama,  Rama  !  "  carried  on 
To  where  a  pile  was  reared  beside  the  stream  ; 
Thereon  they  laid  him,  building  fuel  up — 
Good  sleep  hath   one  that  slumbers  on  that 

bed! 
He  shall  not  wake  for  cold  albeit  he  lies 
Naked  to  all  the  airs — for  soon  they  set 
The  red  flame  to  the  corners  four,  which  crept, 
And  licked,  and  flickered,  finding  out  his  flesh 
And  feeding  on  it  with  swift  hissing  tongues, 
And  crackle  of  parched  skin,  and  snap  of  joint ; 
Till  the  fat  smoke  thinned  and  the  ashes  sank 
Scarlet  and  grey,  with  here  and  there  a  bone 
White  midst  the  grey — the  total  of  the  man. 

Then  spake  the  Prince  :   "  Is  this  the  end 
which  comes 
To  all  who  live  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  end  that  comes 
6 


82  XLbc  %iQbt  ot  Bsia. 

To  all,"  quoth  Channa  ;  *'  he  upon  the  pyre — 
Whose  remnants  are  so  petty  that  the  crows 
Caw  hungrily,  then  quit  the  fruitless  feast — 
Ate,  drank,   laughed,    loved,    and   lived,    and 

liked  life  well. 
Then    came  —  who    knows  ? — some    gust    of 

jungle  wind, 
A  stumble  on  the  path,  a  taint  in  the  tank, 
A  snake's  nip,  half  a  span  of  angry  steel, 
A  chill,  a  fishbone,  or  a  falling  tile. 
And  life  was  over  and  the  man  is  dead  ; 
No  appetites,  no  pleasures,  and  no  pains 
Hath  such  ;  the  kiss  upon  his  lips  is  nought. 
The  fire-scorch  nought ;  he  smelleth  not  his 

flesh 
A-roast,  nor  yet  the  sandal  and  the  spice 
They  burn;    the   taste   is  emptied   from   his 

mouth, 
The  hearing  of  his  ears  is  clogged,  the  sight 
Is  blinded  in  his  eyes ;    those  whom  he  loved 
Wail  desolate,  for  even  that  must  go, 
The  body,  which  was  lamp  unto  the  life, 
Or  worms  will  have  a  horrid  feast  of  it. 
Here  is  the  common  destiny  of  flesh : 
The  high  and  low,  the  good  and  bad,  must 

die. 
And  then,  'tis  taught,  begin  anew  and  live 


JBooft  tbe  ^birJ).  s^ 

Somewhere,  somehow, — who  knows  ? — and  so 

again 
The  pangs,  the  parting,  and  the  lighted  pile  : — 
Such  is  man's  round." 

"  But  lo !  Siddartha  turned 
Eyes  gleaming  with  divine  tears  to  the  sky. 
Eyes  lit  with  heavenly  pity  to  the  earth ; 
From  sky  to  earth  he  looked,  from  earth  to 

sky, 
As  if  his  spirit  sought  in  lonely  flight 
Some  far-off  vision,  linking  this  and  that. 
Lost — past — but    searchable,    but    seen,   but 

known. 
Then  cried  he,  w^hile  his  lifted  countenance 
Glowed  with  the  burning  passion  of  a  love 
Unspeakable,  the  ardor  of  a  hope 
Boundless,  insatiate  :  "  Oh  !   suffering   w^orld, 
Oh  !  known  and  unknown  of  my  common  flesh. 
Caught  in  this  common  net  of  death  and  w^oe, 
And  life  which  binds  to  both  !   I  see,  I  feel 
The  vastness  of  the  agony  of  earth, 
The  vainness  of  its  joys,  the  mockery 
Of  all  its  best,  the  anguish  of  its  worst ; 
Since  pleasures  end  in  pain,  and  youth  in  age, 
And  love  in  loss,  and  life  in  hateful  death, 
And  death  in  unknown  lives,  w^hich  will  but 

yoke 


84  ^be  %iQbt  of  Bsia. 

Men  to  their  wheel  again  to  whirl  the  round 
Of  false  delights  and  woes  that  are  not  false 
Me  too  this  lure  hath  cheated,  so  it  seemed 
Lovely  to  live,  and  life  a  sunlit  stream 
For  ever  flowing  in  a  changeless  peace ; 
Whereas  the  foolish  ripple  of  the  flood 
Dances  so  lightly  down  by  bloom  and  lawn 
Only  to  pour  its  crystal  quicklier 
Into  the  foul  salt  sea.     The  veil  is  rent 
Which  blinded  me  !     I  am  as  all  these  men 
Who  cry  upon  their  gods  and  are  not  heard 
Or  are  not  heeded — yet  there  must  be  aid  ! 
For  them  and  me  and  all  there  must  be  help  ! 
Perchance  the  gods  have  need  of  help  them- 
selves 
Being  so  feeble  that  when  sad  lips  cry 
They  cannot  save  !     I  would  not  let  one  cry 
Whom   I    could   save !     How   can  it  be  that 

Brahm 
Would  make  a  world  and  keep  it  miserable, 
Since,  if  all-powerful,  he  leaves  it  so. 
He  is  not  good,  and  if  not  powerful, 
He  is  not  God  P^Channa  !  lead  home  again  ! 
It  is  enough  !  mine  eyes  have  seen  enough  !  " 

Which  when  the  King  heard,  at  the  gates 
he  set 


:f6oo\{  tbe  cbirD.  s^ 

A  triple  guard,  and  bade  no  man  should  pass 
By  day  or  night,  issuing  or  entering  in, 
Until  the  days  were  numbered  of  that  dream. 


§0a1i  the  go\xti\i. 


But  when    the   days    were    numbered,    then 

befell 
The  parting  of  our  Lord — which  was  to  be — 
Whereby  came  wailing  in  the  Golden  Home, 
Woe  to  the  King  and  sorrow  o'er  the  land. 
But  for  all  flesh  deliverance,  and  that  Law 
Which — whoso  hears — the   same  shall   make 

him  free. 
Softly  the  Indian  night  sinks  on  the  plains 
At  full  moon  in  the  month  of  Chaitra  Shud, 
W^hen  mangoes  redden  and  the  asoka  buds 
Sweeten   the    breeze,    and   Rama's    birthday 

comes, 
And  all  the  fields  are  glad  and  all  the  towns. 
Softly  that  night  fell  over  Vishramvan, 
Fragrant  with  blooms  and  jewelled  thick  with 

stars, 
And  cool  with  mountain  airs  sighing  adown 
From  snow-flats  on  Himala  high-outspread  ; 
For  the  moon  swung  above  the  eastern  peaks, 
Climbing  the  spangled  vault,  and  lighting  clear 


JBooft  tbe  jfourtb.  87 

Rohini's  ripples  and  the  hills  and  plains, 
And  all  the  sleeping  land,  and  near  at  hand 
Silvering   those    roof-tops    of    the    pleasure- 
house, 
Where  nothing  stirred  nor  sign  of  watching- 

was, 
Save  at  the  outer  gates,  whose  warders  cried 
Mudra,  the  watchword,  and  the  countersign 
Angafia,  and  the  watch-drums  beat  a  round  ; 
Whereat  the  earth  lay  still,  except  for  call 
Of  prowling  jackals,  and  the  ceaseless  trill 
Of  crickets  on  the  garden  grounds. 

Within— 
Where  the  moon  glittered  through  the  lace-^ 

worked  stone 
Lighting  the  walls  of  pearl-shell  and  the  floors 
Paved    with    veined   marble — softly   fell    her 

beams 
On  such  rare  company  of  Indian  girls, 
It  seemed  some  chamber  sweet  in  Paradise 
Where  Devis  rested.     All  the  chosen  ones 
Of    Prince    Siddartha's     pleasure-home    were 

there, 
The  brightest  and  most  faithful  of  the  Court, 
Each  form  so  lovely  in  the  peace  of  sleep, 
That  you  had  said  "  This  is  the  pearl  of  all !  " 


88  ^be  %\Qbt  ot  Bsia. 

Save  that  beside  her  or  beyond  her  lay 
Fairer  and  fairer,  till  the  pleasured  gaze 
Roamed  o'er  that  feast  of  beauty  as  it  roams 
Prom  gem  to  gem  in  some  great  goldsmith- 
work, 
Caught  by  each  color  till  the  next  is  seen. 
With  careless  grace  they  lay,  their  soft  brown 

limbs 
Part  hidden,  part  revealed  ;  their  glossy  hair 
Bound  back  with  gold  or  flowers,  or  flowing 

loose 
In  black  waves  down  the    shapely  nape  and 

neck. 
Lulled  into  pleasant  dreams  by  happy  toils, 
They  slept,  no  wearier  than  jewelled  birds 
Which  sing  and  love  all  day,  then  under  wing 
Fold  head  till  morn  bids  sing  and  love  again. 
Lamps  of  chased  silver  swinging  from  the  roof 
In  silver  chains,  and  fed  with  perfumed  oils, 
Made  with  the  moonbeams'  tender  lights  and 

shades, 
Whereby  were  seen  the  perfect  lines  of  grace, 
The  bosom's  placid   heave,  the   soft   stained 

palms 
Drooping  or  clasped,  the  faces  fair  and  dark, 
The  great  arched  brows,  the  parted  lips,  the 

teeth 


:i6ooft  tbe  J'ourtb.  89 

Like  pearls  a  merchant  picks  to  make  a  string, 
The  satin-lidded  eyes,  with  lashes  dropped 
Sweeping   the    delicate    cheeks,    the    rounded- 
wrists, 
The  smooth  small  feet  with  bells  and  bangles 

decked, 
Tinkling  low  music  where  some  sleeper  moved, 
Breaking  her  smiling  dream  of  some  new  dance 
Praised  by  the   Prince,  some   magic   ring  to- 

find, 
Some  fairy  love-gift.     Here  one  lay  full-length,. 
Her  vina  by  her  cheek,  and  in  its  strings 
The  little  fingers  still  all  interlaced 
As  when  the  last  notes  of  her  light  song  played 
Those  radiant  eyes  to  sleep  and  sealed   her 

own. 
Another  slumbered  folding  in  her  arms 
A  desert-antelope,  its  slender  head 
Buried   with  back-sloped   horns  between   her 

breasts 
Soft    nestling ;    it    was    eating — when     both 

drowsed — 
Red  roses,  and  her  loosening  hand  still  held 
A  rose  half-mumbled,  while  a  rose-leaf  curled 
Between  the   deer's  lips.     Here   two   friends- 
had  dozed 
Together,  weaving  mogra-buds,  which  bound 


90  ^bc  Xfgbt  ot  Bsfa, 

Their  sister-sweetness  in  a  starry  chain, 
Linking  them  limb  to  limb  and  heart  to  heart 
One  pillowed  on  the  blossoms,  one  on  her. 
Another,  ere  she  slept,  was  stringing  stones 
To  make  a  necklet — agate,  onyx,  sard, 
Coral,    and   moonstone — round   her   wrist    it 

gleamed 
A  coil  of  splendid  color,  w^hile  she  held. 
Unthreaded  yet,  the  bead  to  close  it  up 
Green   turkis,  carved  with  golden  gods    and 

scripts. 
Lulled  by  the  cadence  of  the  garden  stream, 
Thus  lay  they  on  the  clustered  carpets,  each 
A  girlish  rose  with  shut  leaves,  waiting  dawn 
To  open  arid  make  daylight  beautiful. 
This  was  the  antechamber  of  the  Prince  ; 
But  at  the  purdah's  fringe  the  sweetest  slept — 
Gunga  and  Gotami — chief  ministers 
In  that  still  house  of  love. 

The  purdah  hung, 
Crimson  and  blue,  with  broidered  threads  of 

gold. 
Across  a  portal  carved  in  sandal-wood, 
Whence  by  three  steps  the  way  was  to  the 

bower 
Of  inmost  splendor,  and  the  marriage-couch 
Set  on  a  dais  soft  with  silver  cloths, 


JBooft  tbc  jFourtb.  91 

Where  the  foot  fell  as  though  it  trod  on  piles 
Of  neem-blooms.     All  the  walls  were  plates  of 

pearl, 
Cut  shapely  from  the  shells  of  Lanka's  wave  ; 
And  o'er  the  alabaster  roof  there  ran 
Rich  inlayings  of  lotus  and  of  bird, 
Wrought  in  skilled  work  of  lazulite  and  jade, 
Jacynth  and  jasper ;  woven  round  the  dome. 
And  down  the  sides,  and  all  about  the  frames 
Wherein  were  set  the  fretted  lattices, 
Through  which  there  breathed,  with  moonlight 

and  cool  airs. 
Scents  from  the  shell-flowers  and  the  jasmine 

sprays  ; 
Not  bringing  thither  grace  or  tenderness 
Sweeter  than  shed  from  those  fair  presences 
Within  the  place — the  beauteous  Sakya  Prince, 
And  hers,  the  stately,  bright  Yasodhara. 

Half  risen  from  her  soft  nest  at  his  side. 
The  chuddah  fallen  to  her  waist,  her  brow 
Laid  in  both  palms,  the  lovely  Princess  leaned 
With  heaving  bosom  and  fast  falling  tears. 
Thrice  with  her  lips  she  touched  Siddartha's 

hand, 
And  at  the  third  kiss  moaned,  "  Awake,  my 

Lord! 


92  ^be  XtQbt  of  B6ia. 

Give  me  the  comfort  of  thy  speech  !  "     Then 

he— 
"What  is  it  with  thee,  O  my  life  ?  "  but  still 
She  moaned   anew  before    the   words   would 

'come ; 
Then  spake,  "  Alas,  my  Prince  !  I  sank  to  sleep 
Most  happy,  for  the  babe  I  bear  of  thee 
Quickened  this  eve,  and  at  my  heart  there  beat 
That  double  pulse  of  life  and  joy  and  love 
Whose  happy  music  lulled  me,  but — aho  ! — 
In  slumber  I  beheld  three  sights  of  dread, 
With  thought  whereof  my  heart  is  throbbing 

yet. 
I  saw  a  white  bull  with  wide  branching  horns, 
A  lord  of  pastures,  pacing  through  the  streets, 
Bearing  upon  his  front  a  gem  which  shone 
As  if  some  star  had  dropped  to  glitter  there, 
Or  like  the  kantha-stone  the  great  Snake  keeps 
To  make  bright  daylight  underneath  the  earth. 
Slow  through  the  streets  towards  the  gates  he 

paced, 
And  none  could  stay  him,  though  there  came  a 

voice 
From  Indra's  temple,  '  If  ye  stay  him  not, 
The  glory  of  the  city  goeth  forth.' 
Yet  none  could  stay  him.     Then  I  wept  aloud, 
And  locked  my  arms  about  his  neck,  and  strove, 


3Book  tbe  3fourtb.  93 

And  bade  them  bar  the  gates  ;  but  that  ox- king 
Bellowed,  and,  lightly  tossing  free  his  crest, 
Broke  from  my  clasp,  and  bursting  through  the 

bars, 
Trampled  the  warders  dow^n  and  passed  away. 
The  next  strange  dream  was  this  :  Four  Pres- 
ences 
Splendid,  with  shining  eyes,  so  beautiful 
They  seemed  the  Regents  of  the   Earth  who 

dwell 
On  Mount  Sumeru,  lighting  from  the  sky 
With  retinue  of  countless  heavenly  ones, 
Swift  swept  unto  our  city,  where  I  saw 
The  golden  flag  of  Indra  on  the  gate 
Flutter  and  fall ;  and  lo  !  there  rose  instead 
A  glorious  banner,  all  the  folds  whereof 
Rippled  with  flashing  fire  of  rubies  sewn 
Thick  on  the  silver  threads,  the  rays  wherefrom 
Set  forth  new  w^ords  and  weighty  sentences 
Whose  message  made  all  living  creatures  glad  ; 
And  from  the  east  the  wind  of  sunrise  blew 
With  tender  waft,  opening  those  jewelled  scrolls 
So  that  all  flesh  might  read ;   and  w^ondrous 

blooms — 
Plucked    in   what  clime  I  know  not— fell  in 

showers, 
Colored  as  none  are  colored  in  our  groves." 


94  '  ^be  Xifibt  ot  Bsia. 

Then  spake  the  Prince  :  "  All  this,  my  Lotus* 

flower  ! 
Was  good  to  see." 

"  Ay,  Lord,"  the  Princess  said, 
"  Save  that  it  ended  with  a  voice  of  fear 
Crying,  '  The  time  is  nigh  !  the  time  is  nigh  ! ' 
Thereat  the  third   dream    came  ;  for   when  I 

sought 
Thy  side,  sweet  Lord  !  ah,  on  our  bed  there  lay 
An  unpressed  pillow  and  an  empty  robe — 
Nothing  of  thee  but  those  ! — nothing  of  thee, 
Who  art  my  life  and  light,  my  king,  my  world  ! 
And  sleeping  still  I  rose,  and  sleeping  saw 
Thy  belt  of  pearls,  tied  here  below  my  breasts. 
Change  to  a  stinging  snake ;  my  ankle-rings 
Fall  off,  my  golden  bangles  part  and  fall ; 
The  jasmines  in  my  hair  wither  to  dust ; 
While  this  our  bridal-couch  sank  to  the  ground. 
And  something  rent  the  crimson  purdah  down  ; 
Then  far  away  I  heard  the  white  bull  low. 
And  far  away  the  embroidered  banner  flap. 
And  once  again  that  cry,  '  The  time  is  come  ! ' 
But  with   that    cry — which   shakes    my  spirit 

still— 
I  woke !     O  Prince !  what   may  such  visions 

mean 
Except  I  die,  or — worse  than  any  death — 


:iSoo!i  tbe  3fourtb.  95 

Thou  shouldst  forsake  me  or  be  taken  ?  " 

Sweet 
As  the  last  smile  of  sunset  was  the  look 
Siddartha  bent  upon  his  weeping  wife. 
*'  Comfort  thee,  dear  !  "  he  said,  "  if  comfort 

lives 
In    changeless  love ;   for  though  thy  dream 

may  be 
Shadows  of  things  to  come,  and  though  the 

gods 
Are  shaken  in  their  seats-,  and  though  the  world 
Stands  nigh,  perchance,  to  know  some  way  of 

help. 
Yet,  whatsoever  fall  to  thee  and  me, 
Be  sure  I  loved  and  love  Yasodhara. 
Thou  knowest  how  I  muse  these  many  moons, 
Seeking  to  save  the  sad  earth  I  have  seen  ; 
And  when  the  time  comes,  that  which  will  be 

will. 
But  if  my  soul  yearns  sore  for  souls  unknown. 
And  if  I  grieve  for  griefs  which  are  not  mine, 
Judge   how   my   high-winged    thoughts    must 

hover  here 
O'er  all  these  lives  that  share    and   sweeten 

mine — 
So  dear  !  and  thine  the   dearest,  gentlest,  best, 
And  nearest.     Ah,  thou  mother  of  my  babe  1 


96  Zbc  Xigbt  ot  Bsia. 

Whose  body  mixed  with  mine  for  this  fair  hope, 
When  most  my  spirit  wanders,  ranging  round 
The  lands  and  seas — as  full  of  ruth  for  men 
As  the  far-flying  dove  is  full  of  ruth 
For  her  twin  nestlings — ever  it  has  come 
Home  with  glad  wing  and  passionate   plumes 

to  thee, 
Who  art  the  sweetness  of  my  kind  best  seen, 
The  utmost  of  their  good,  the  tenderest 
Of  all  their  tenderness,  mine  most  of  all. 
Therefore,  whatever  after  this  betide. 
Bethink  thee  of  that  lordly  bull  which  lowed, 
That   jewelled   banner   in   thy   dream    which 

waved 
Its  folds  departing,  and  of  this  be  sure, 
Always  I  loved  and  always  love  thee  well, 
And  what  I  sought  for  all  sought  most  for  thee. 
But  thou,  take  comfort ;  and,  if  sorrow  falls, 
Take  comfort  still  in  deeming  there  may  be 
A  way  of  peace  on  earth  by  woes  of  ours ;  . 
And  have  with  this  embrace  what  faithful  love 
Can  think  of  thanks  or  frame  for  benison — 
Too  little,  seeing  love's  strong  self  is  weak — 
Yet  kiss  me  on  the  mouth,  and  drink   these 

words 
From  heart  to  heart  therewith,  that  thou  mayst 

know — 


:©ooft  tbe  jfourtb.  97 

What  others  will  not — that  I  loved  thee  most 

Because  I  loved  so  well  all  living  souls. 

Now,  Princess!  rest,  for  I  will  rise  and  watch.'' 

Then  in  her  tears  she   slept,  but  sleeping 

sighed — 
As  if  that  vision  passed  again — "  The  time  ! 
The    time   is    come ! "      Whereat    Siddartha 

turned, 
And,  lo  !  the  moon  shone  by  the  Crab  !  the 

stars 
In  that  same  silver  order  long  foretold 
Stood  ranged  to  say,  "  This  is  the  night  !— 

choose  thou 
The  way  of  greatness  or  the  way  of  good  : 
To  reign  a  King  of  kings,  or  wander  lone, 
Crownless  and  homeless,    that   the   w^orld  be 

helped." 
Moreover,  with  the  whispers  of  the  gloom 
Came  to  his  ears  again  that  warning  song, 
As  when  the  Devas  spoke  upon  the  wind  : 
And  surely  Gods  were  round  about  the  place 
W^atching  our  Lord,  who  watched  the  shining 

stars. 

"I   will  depart,"  he   spake;  *'the   hour  is 
come  ! 
7 


98  ^be  Xlgbt  ot  Bsia. 

Thy  tender  lips,  dear  sleeper,  summon  me 
To  that  which  saves  the  earth  but  sunders  us  ; 
And  in  the  silence  of  yon  sky  I  read 
My  fated  message  flashing.     Unto  this 
Came  I,  and  unto  this  all  nights  and  days 
Have  led  me ;  for  I  will  not  have  that  crown 
Which  may  be  mine  :  I  lay  aside  those  realms 
Which  wait  the  gleaming  of  my  naked  sword : 
My  chariot  shall  not  roll  with  bloody  wheels 
Prom  victory  to  victory,  till  earth 
Wears  the  red  record  of  my  name.     I  choose 
To  tread  its  paths  with  patient,  stainless  feet, 
Making  its  dust  my  bed,  its  loneliest  wastes 
My  dwelling,  and  its  meanest  things  my  mates  : 
Clad  in  no  prouder  garb  than  outcasts  wear, 
Fed  with  no  meats  save  what  the  charitable 
Give  of  their  will,  sheltered  by  no  more  pomp 
Than  the  dim  cave  lends  or  the  jungle-bush. 
This  will  I  do  because  the  woful  cry 
Of  life  and  all  flesh  living  cometh  up 
Into  my  ears,  and  all  my  soul  is  full 
Of  pity  for  the  sickness  of  this  world  ; 
Which  I  will  heal,  if  healing  may  be  found 
By  uttermost  renouncing  and  strong  strife. 
For  which  of  all  the  great  and  lesser  Gods 
Have  power  or  pity  ?     Who  hath  seen  them — 
who? 


:©oo?i  tbe  3fourtb»  99 

What  have  they   wrought   to   help   their  wor- 
shippers ? 
How  hath  it  steaded  man  to  pray,  and  pay 
Tithes  of  the  corn  and  oil,  to  chant  the  charms, 
To  slay  the  shrieking  sacrifice,  to  rear 
The  stately  fane,  to  feed  the  priests,  and  call 
On  Vishnu,  Shiva,  Surya,  who  save 
None — not  the  w^orthiest — from  the  griefs  that 

teach 
Those  litanies  of  flattery  and  fear 
Ascending  day  by  day,  like  wasted  smoke  ? 
Hath  any  of  my  brothers  'scaped  thereby 
The  aches  of  life,  the  stings  of  love  and  loss. 
The  fiery  fever  and  the  ague-shake, 
The  slow,  dull  sinking  into  withered  age. 
The  horrible  dark  death — and  what  beyond 
Waits — till  the  whirling  wheel  comes  up  again. 
And  new  lives  bring  new  sorrows  to  be  borne, 
New  generations  for  the  new  desires 
Which  have  their  end  in  the  old  mockeries  ? 
Hath  any  of  my  tender  sisters  found 
Fruit  of  the  fast  or  harvest  of  the  hymn. 
Or  bought  one  pang  the  less  at  bearing-time 
For  white  curds  offered  and  trim  tulsi-leaves  ? 
Nay ;  it  may  be  some  of  the  Gods  are  good 
And  evil-some,  but  all  in  action  weak ; 
Both  pitiful  and  pitiless,  and  both — 


100  ^bc  %\Qbt  of  Bsfa. 

As  men  are — bound  upon  this  wheel  of  change, 
Knowing  the  former  and  the  after  Hves. 
For  so  our  scriptures  truly  seem  to  teach, 
That — once,    and   wheresoe'er,    and   whence 

begun — 
Life  runs  its  rounds  of  living,  climbing  up 
From  mote,  and  gnat,  and  worm,  reptile,  and 

fish, 
Eird  and  shagged   beast,  man,   demon,  deva, 

God,       . 
To  clod  and  mote  again  ;  so  are  we  kin 
To  all  that  is  ;  and  thus,  if  one  might  save 
Man  from  his   curse,   the  whole  wide   world 

should  share 
The  lightened  horror  of  this  ignorance 
Whose  shadow  is  chill  fear,  and  cruelty 
Its  bitter  pastime.     Yea,  if  one  might  save  ! 
And  means  must  be  !     There  must  be  refuge ! 

Men 
Perished  in  winter-winds  till  one  smote  fire 
From  flint-stones  coldly  hiding  what  they  held, 
The  red  spark  treasured  from  the  kindling  sun. 
They  gorged  on  flesh  like  wolves,  till  one  sowed 

corn. 
Which  grew  a  weed,  yet  makes  the  life  of  man  ; 
They  mowed   and  babbled  till  some  tongue 

struck  speech, 


:fiSooft  tbe  3fourtb.  loi 

And  patient  fingers  framed  the  lettered  sound. 
What  good  gift  have  my  brothers,  but  it  came 
From  search  and  strife  and  loving  sacrifice  ? 
If  one,  then,  being  great  and  fortunate, 
Rich,    dowered   vrith   health   and   ease,   from 

birth  designed 
To  rule — if  he  would  rule — a  King  of  kings  ; 
If  one,  not  tired  with  life's  long  day  but  glad 
I'  the  freshness  of  its  morning,  one  not  cloyed 
With  love's  delicious  feasts,  but  hungry  still ; 
If  one  not  worn  and  wrinkled,  sadly  sage. 
But  joyous  in  the  glory  and  the  grace 
That  mix  with  evils  here,  and  free  to  choose 
Earth's  loveliest  at  his  will :  one  even  as  I, 
Who  ache  not,  lack  not,  grieve   not,  save  with 

griefs 
Which  are  not  mine,  except  as  I  am  man  ;— 
If  such  a  one,  having  so  much  to  give, 
Gave  all,  laying  it  down  for  love  of  men. 
And  thenceforth  spent  himself  to  search  for 

truth, 
Wringing  the  secret  of  deliverance  forth, 
Whether  it  lurk  in  hells  or  hide  in  heavens. 
Or  hover,  unrevealed,  nigh  unto  all  : 
Surely  at  last,  far  off,  sometime,  somewhere, 
The  veil  would  lift  for  his  deep-searching  eyes, 
The  road  would  open  for  his  painful  feet, 


102  Z\)C  XlQbt  of  Bsia. 

That   should  be   won  for  which  he  lost  the 

world, 
And  Death  might  find  him  conqueror  of  death. 
This  will  I  do,  who  have  a  realm  to  lose, 
Because  I  love  my  realm,  because  my  heart 
Beats  with  each  throb  of  all  the  hearts  that 

ache, 
Known  and  unknown,  these  that  are  mine  and 

those 
Which  shall  be  mine,  a  thousand  million  more 
Saved  by  this  sacrifice  I  offer  now. 
Oh,  summoning  stars  !  I  come  !     Oh,  mournful 

earth ! 
For  thee  and  thine  I  lay  aside  my  youth. 
My  throne,  my  joys,  my  golden  days,  my  nights, 
My   happy    palace — and   thine    arms,    sweet 

Queen  ! 
Harder  to  put  aside  than  all  the  rest ! 
Yet  thee,  too,  I  shall  save,  saving  this  earth ; 
And  that  which  stirs  within  thy  tender  womb, 
My  child,  the  hidden  blossom  of  our  loves, 
Whom  if  I  wait  to  bless  my  mind  will  fail. 
Wife  !    child !   father !    and   people !   ye   must 

share 
A  little  while  the  anguish  of  this  hour 
That  light  may  break  and  all  flesh  learn  the 

Law. 


3Boo[i  tbe  Jpourtb,  103 

Now  am  I  fixed,  and  now  I  will  depart, 

Never  to  come  again  till  what  I  seek 

Be  found — if  fervent  search  and  strife  avail." 


So  with  his  brow  he  touched  her  feet,   and 

bent 
The  farewell  of  fond  eyes,  unutterable, 
Upon  her  sleeping  face,  still  wet  with  tears ; 
And  thrice  around  the  bed  in  reverence. 
As  though  it  were  an  altar,  softly  stepped 
With  clasped   hands    laid   upon   his   beating 

heart, 
*'For  never,"  spake  he,  "  lie  I  there  again  !  " 
And  thrice  he  made  to  go,but  thrice  came  back, 
So  strong  her  beauty  was,  so  large  his  love : 
Then,    o'er   his  head   drawing   his   cloth,  he 

turned 
And  raised  the  purdah's  edge  : 

There  drooped,  close-hushed, 
In  such  sealed  sleep  as  water-lilies  know, 
The  lovely  garden  of  his  Indian  girls  ; 
That  twin  dark-petalled  lotus-buds  of  all — 
Gunga  and  Gotami — on  either  side. 
And  those,  their  silk-leaved  sisterhood,  beyond. 
*'  Pleasant  ye  are  to  me,  sweet  friends  !  "  he 

said, 
*^  And  dear  to  leave  ;  yet  if  I  leave  ye  not 


104  ^^^  %iQbt  of  Bsia, 

What  else  will  come  to  all  of  us  save  eld 
Without  assuage  and  death  without  avail  ? 
Lo  !  as  ye  lie  asleep  so  must  ye  lie 
A-dead ;  and  when  the  rose  dies  where  are  gone 
Its   scent  and   splendor  ?  when  the   lamp  is 

drained 
Whither  is  fled  the  flame  ?     Press  heavy,  Night  I 
Upon  their  down-dropped  lids  and  seal  their 

lips, 
That  no  tear  stay  me  and  no  faithful  voice. 
For  all  the  brighter  that  these  made  my  life, 
The  bitterer  it  is  that  they  and  I, 
And   all,  should  Hve   as   trees  do — so  much 

spring, 
Such  and  such  rains  and  frosts,  such  winter- 
times, 
And  then  dead  leaves,  with  maybe  spring  again. 
Or  axe-stroke  at  the  root.     This  will  not  I, 
Whose  life  here  was  a  God's  ! — this  would  not  I, 
Though  all  my  days  were  godlike,  while  men 

moan 
Under  their   darkness.      Therefore   farewell, 

friends  ! 
While  life  is  good  to  give,  I  give,  and  go 
To  seek  deliverance  and  that  unknown  Light !  " 

Then,  lightly  treading  where  those  sleepers 
lay, 


JBooft  tbe  3fourtb.  105 

Into  the  night  Siddartha  passed :  its  eyes, 
The  watchful  stars,  looked  love  on  him  :  its 

breath, 
The  wandering  wind,  kissed  his  robe's  fluttered 

fringe ; 
The  garden-blossoms,  folded  for  the  dawn, 
Opened  their  velvet  hearts  to  waft  him  scents 
From    pink   and    purple    censers  :    o'er    the 

land. 
From  Himalay  unto  the  Indian  Sea, 
A  tremor  spread,  as  if  earth's  soul  beneath 
Stirred   with    an    unknown   hope  ;    and   holy 

books — 
Which  tell  the  story  of  our  Lord — say,  too, 
That  rich  celestial  musics  thrilled  the  air 
From   hosts   on   hosts  of  shining  ones,  who 

thronged 
Eastward   and  westward,   making  bright   the 

night — 
Northward  and   southward,  making  glad  the 

ground. 
Also  those  four  dread  Regents  of  the  Earth, 
Descending  at  the  doorway,  two  by  two, — 
With  their  bright  legions  of  Invisibles 
In  arms  of  sapphire,  silver,  gold,  and  pearl — 
Watched  with  joined  hands  the  Indian  Prince, 

who  stood, 


io6  XLbc  %iQbt  ot  H6ia. 

His  tearful  eyes  raised  to  the  stars,  and  lips 
Close-set  with  purpose  of  prodigious  love. 

Then   strode  he  forth  into  the  gloom  and 
cried, 
"  Channa,  awake !  and  bring  out  Kantaka  !  " 

"  What  would   my  Lord  ? "  the   charioteer 
replied — 
Slow-rising  from  his  place  beside  the  gate — 
"  To  ride  at  night  when  all  the  ways  are  dark  ?  '* 

"  Speak  low,"  Siddartha  said,  "  and  bring 

my  horse. 
For  now,  the  hour  is  come  when  I  should  quit 
This  golden  prison  where  my  heart  lives  caged 
To   find  the   truth ;  which  henceforth  I   will 

seek, 
For  all  men's  sake,  until  the  truth  be  found.'^ 

"  Alas  !  dear  Prince,"  answered  the  chario- 
teer, 

"  Spake  then  for  nought  those  wise  and  holy 
men 

Who  cast  the  stars  and  bade  us  wait  the  time 

When  King  Suddhodana's  great  son  should 
rule 

Realms  upon  realms,  and  be  a  Lord  of  lords  ? 


:©ooft  tbe  Jfaurtb,  107 

Wilt  thou  ride  hence  and  let  the  rich  world 

slip 
Out  of  thy  grasp,  to  hold  a  beggar's  bowl  ? 
Wilt  thou  go  forth  into  the  friendless  waste 
That  hast  this  Paradise   of  pleasures  here  ?  " 

The  Prince  made  answer,  "  Unto  this  I  came, 

And  not  for  thrones  :  the  kingdom  that  I  crave 

Is  more  than  many  realms — and  all  things  pass 

To     change     and     death.      Bring    me    forth 

Kantaka !  " 

"  Most  honored,"  spake  again  the  charioteer, 
**  Bethink  thee  of  my  Lord  thy  father's  grief  ! 
Eethink  thee  of  their  woe  w^hose   bhss  thou 

art — 
How  shalt  thou  help  them,  first  undoing  them  ?  " 

Siddartha  answered,  "  Friend,  that  love  is 
false 
Which  clings  to  love  for  selfish  sweets  of  love  ; 
But  I,  who  love  these  more  than  joys  of  mine — 
Yea,  more  than  joy  of  theirs — depart  to  save 
Them  and  all  flesh,  if  utmost  love  avail. 
Go,  bring  me  Kantaka  !  " 

Then  Channa  said, 


io8  Zbc  %iQbt  ot  Bsia. 

"  Master,  I  go  !  "  and  forthwith,  mournfully, 
Unto  the  stall  he  passed,  and  from  the  rack 
Took  down  the  silver  bit  and  bridle-chains, 
Breast-cord  and  curb,  and   knitted   fast   the 

straps. 
And  linked  the  hooks,  and  led  out  Kantaka ; 
Whom  tethering  to  the  ring,  he  combed  and 

dressed, 
Stroking  the  snowy  coat  to  silken  gloss ; 
Next  on  the  steed  he  laid  the  numdah  square. 
Fitted  the  saddle-cloth  across,  and  set 
The  saddle  fair,  drew  tight  the  jewelled  girths^ 
Buckled  the  breech-bands  and  the  martingale^ 
And  made  fall  both  the  stirrups  of  worked  gold. 
Then  over  all  he  cast  a  golden  net. 
With  tassels  of  seed-pearl  and  silken  strings, 
And  led  the  great  horse  to  the  palace  door. 
Where  stood  the  Prince ;  but  when  he  saw  his 

Lord, 
Right  glad  he  waxed  and  joyously  he  neighed, 
Spreading  his  scarlet  nostrils  ;  and  the  books 
Write,  "  Surely  all  had  heard  Kantaka's  neigh, 
And  that  strong  trampling  of  his  iron  heels, 
Save  that  the  Devas  laid  their  unseen  wings 
Over  their  ears  and  kept  the  sleepers  deaf." 

Fondly    Siddartha   drew    the    proud    head 
down. 


:fiSoo?i  tbe  3fourtb,  109. 

Patted  the  shining  neck,  and  said,  "  Be  still, 
White  Kantaka  !  be  still,  and  bear  me  now 
The  farthest  journey  ever  rider  rode  ; 
For  this  night  take  I  horse  to  find  the  truth, 
And  where  my  quest  will  end  yet  know  I  not, 
Save  that  it  shall  not  end  until  I  find. 
Therefore  to-night,  good  steed,  be  fierce  and 

bold! 
Let    nothing   stay  thee,    though   a   thousand 

blades 
Deny  the  road  !  let  neither  wall  nor  moat 
Forbid  our  flight !     Look  !  if  I  touch  thy  flank 
And  cry,  '  On,  Kantaka  ! '  let  whirlwinds  lag 
Behind  thy  course  !     Be  fire  and  air,  my  horse  ! 
To  stead  thy  Lord,  so  shalt  thou  share  with 

him 
The  greatness  of  this  deed  which  helps  the 

world  ; 
For  therefore  ride  I,  not  for  men  alone, 
Butfor  all  things  which,  speechless,  share  our 

pain 
And  have  no  hope,  nor  wit  to  ask  for  hope. 
Now,  therefore,  bear  thy  master  valorously !  " 

Then  to  the  saddle  lightly  leaping,  he 
Touched  the  arched  crest,  and  Kantaka  sprang 
forth 


no  ^be  Xiflbt  ot  Bsia. 

With  armed  hoofs  sparkling  on  the  stones  and 

ring 
Of   champing   bit;   but   none   did   hear   that 

sound, 
For  that  the  Suddha  Devas,  gathering  near, 
Plucked  the  red  mohra-flowers   and   strewed 

them  thick 
Under  his  tread,  while  hands  invisible 
Muffled  the  ringing  bit  and  bridle  chains. 
Moreover,  it  is  written  when  they  came 
Upon  the  pavement  near  the  inner  gates. 
The  Yakshas  of  the  air  laid  magic  cloths 
Under  the  stallion's  feet,  so  that  he  went 
Softly  and  still. 

But  when  they  reached  the  gate 
Of  tripled  brass — which  hardly  fivescore  men 
Served  to  unbar  and  open — lo  !  the  doors 
Rolled  back  all  silently,   though   one   might 

hear 
In  daytime  two  koss  off  the  thunderous  roar 
Of  those  grim  hinges  and  unwieldy  plates. 

Also  the  middle  and  the  outer  gates 
Unfolded  each  their  monstrous  portals  thus 
In  silence  as  Siddartha  and  his  steed 
Drew  near ;  while  underneath   their   shadow 
lay, 


J6ooft  tbc  3fourtb»  m 

Silent  as  dead  men,  all  those  chosen  guards — 
The   lance   and    sword    let   fall,    the   shields 

unbraced, 
Captains  and  soldiers — for  there  came  a  wind, 
Drowsier  than  blows   o'er  Malwa's  fields  of 

sleep, 
Before  the  Prince's  path,  which,  being  breathed, 
Lulled  every  sense  aswoon :  and  so  he  passed 
Free  from  the  palace. 

When  the  morning  star 
Stood  half  a  spear's  length  from  the  eastern 

rim, 
And    o'er   the    earth    the    breath  of  morning 

sighed 
Rippling  Anoma's  wave,  the  border-stream. 
Then  drew  he  rein,  and  leaped  to  earth  and 

kissed 
White  Kantaka  betwixt  the  ears,  and  spake 
Full  sweet  to  Channa  :  "  This  which  thou  hast 

done 
Shall  bring  thee  good  and  bring  all  creatures 

good. 
Be  sure  I  love  thee  always  for  thy  love. 
Lead  back  my  horse  and  take  my  crest-pearl 

here, 
My  princely  robes,  which  henceforth  stead  me 

not, 


112  Zbc  Xlgbt  ot  B6ia. 

My  jewelled  sword-belt  and  my  sword,   and 

these 
The  long  locks  by  its  bright  edge  severed  thus 
From  off  my  brows.     Give  the  King  all,  and 

say 
Siddartha  prays  forget  him  till  he  come 
Ten  times  a  Prince,  with  royal  wisdom  won 
From  lonely  search  ings  and  the  strife  for  light ; 
Where,  if  I  conquer,  lo  !  all  earth  is  mine — 
Mine  by  chief    service  ! — tell  him — mine  by 

love ! 
Since  there  is  hope  for  man  only  in  man. 
And  none  hath  sought  for  this  as  I  will  seek, 
Who  cast  away  my  world  to  save  my  world." 


:©oo!i  tbe  3fittb.  113 


goah  ilxc  Sm, 


Round  Rajagriha  five  fair  hills  arose, 
Guarding  King  Bimbasara's  sylvan  town : 
Baibhara,  green  with  lemon-grass  and  palms ; 
Bipulla,  at  whose  foot  thin  Sarsuti 
Steals  with  warm  ripple  ;  shadowy  Tapovan, 
Whose    steaming   pools    mirror   black   rocks, 

which  ooze 
Sovereign  earth-butter  from  their  rugged  roofs  ; 
South-east  the  vulture-peak  Sailagiri  ; 
And  eastward  Ratnagiri,  hill  of  gems. 
A  winding  track,  paven  with  footworn  slabs, 
Leads  thee  by  safflower  fields  and  bamboo  tufts 
Under  dark  mangoes  and  the  jujube-trees, 
Past  milk-white  veins  of  rock  and  jasper  crags, 
Low  cliff  and  flats  of  jungle-flowers,  to  where 
The  shoulder  of  that  mountain,  sloping  west, 
O'erhangs  a  cave  with  wild  figs  canopied. 
Lo  !  thou  who  comest  thither,  bare  thy  feet 
And  bow  thy  head  !  for  all  this  spacious  earth 
Hath   not   a   spot   more  dear  and  hallowed. 

Here 

8 


114  ^t)e  !ILl0bt  of  Bsia. 

Lord   Buddha   sate   the   scorching    summers 

through, 
The  driving  rains,  the  chilly  dawns  and  eves  ; 
Wearing  for  all  men's  sakes  the  yellow  robe, 
Eating  in  beggar's  guise  the  scanty  meal 
Chance-gathered  from  the  charitable  ;  at  night 
Couched  on  the  grass,  homeless,  alone  ;  while 

yelped 
The  sleepless  jackals  round  his  cave,  or  coughs 
Of  famished  tiger  from  the  thicket  broke. 
By  day  and  night  here  dwelt  the  World-honored, 
Subduing-that  fair  body  born  for  bliss 
With   fast   and   frequent   watch   and    search 

intense 
Of  silent  meditation,  so  prolonged 
That  ofttimes  while  he  mused — as  motionless 
As  the  fixed  rock  his  seat — the  squirrel  leaped 
Upon  his  knee,  the  timid  quail  led  forth 
Her  brood  between  his  feet,  and  blue  doves 

pecked 
The  rice-grains  from  the  bowl  beside  his  hand. 

Thu§  would  he  muse  from  noontide — when 
the  land 
Shimmered  with  heat,  and  walls  and  temples 

danced 
In  the  reeking  air — till  sunset,  noting  not 


JSook  tbe  3fittb,  115 

The  blazing  globe  roll  down,  nor  ev'Cning  glide, 
iPurple  and  swift,  across  the  softened  fields ; 
Nor  the  still  coming  of  the  stars,  nor  throb 
Of  drum-skins  in  the  busy  town,  nor  screech 
Of  owl  and  night- jar  ;  wholly  wrapt  from  self 
In  keen  unravelling  of  the  threads  of  thought 
And  steadfast  pacing  of  life's  labyrinths. 
Thus  would  he   sit  till  midnight  hushed  the 

world, 
Save  where  the  beasts  of  darkness  in  the  brake 
Crept  and  cried  out,  as  fear  and  hatred  cry, 
As  lust  and  avarice  and  anger  creep 
In  the  black  jungles  of  man's  ignorance. 
Then  slept  he  for  what  space  the  fleet  moon  asks 
To  swim  a  tenth  part  of  her  cloudy  sea  ; 
But  rose  ere  the  False-dawn,  and  stood  again 
Wistful  on  some  dark  platform  of  his  hill, 
Watching  the  sleeping  earth  with  ardent  eyes 
And  thoughts  embracing  all  its  living  things. 
While  o'er  the  waving  fields  that  murmur  moved 
Which  is  the  kiss  of  Morn  waking  the  lands. 
And  in  the  east  that  miracle  of  Day 
Gathered  and  grew.     At  first  a  dusk  so  dim 
Night  seems  still  unaware  of  whispered  dawn, 
But  soon — before  the  jungle-cock  crows  twice — 
A  white  verge  clear,  a  widening,  brightening 

white. 


ii6  ^be  Xigbt  of  Bsia., 

High  as  the  herald-star,  which  fades  in  floods 
Of  silver,  warming  into  pale  gold,  caught 
By  topmost  clouds,  and  flaming  on  their  rims 
To  fervent  golden  glow,  flushed  from  the  brink 
With  saffron,  scarlet  crimson,  amethyst ; 
Whereat  the  sky  burns  splendid  to  the  blue, 
And,  robed  in  raiment  of  glad  light,  the  King 
Of  Life  and  Glory  cometh  ! 

Then  our  Lord, 
After  the  manner  of  a  Rishi,  hailed 
The  rising  orb,  and  went — ablutions  made — 
Down  by  the  winding  path  unto  the  town ; 
And  in  the  fashion  of  a  Rishi  passed 
From   street  to  street,   with  begging-bowl  in 

hand, 
Gathering  the  little  pittance  of  his  needs. 
Soon  was  it  filled,  for  all  the  townsmen  cried, 
"Take  of  our  store,  great  sir  !  "  and  "  Take  of 

ours ! " 
Marking  his  godlike  face  and  eyes  enwrapt; 
And  mothers,  when  they  saw  our  Lord  go  by, 
Would  bid  their  children  fall  to  kiss  his  feet. 
And  lift  his  robe's  hem  to  their  brows,  or  run 
To  fill  his  jar,  and  fetch  him  milk  and  cakes. 
And  ofttimes  as  he  paced,  gentle  and  slow, 
Radiant  with  heavenly  pity,  lost  in  care 
For  those  he  knew  not,  save  as  fellow-lives. 


:ffiooft  tbe  Jfittb,  n; 

The  dark  surprised  eyes  of  some  Indian  maid 
Would  dwell  in  sudden  love  and  worship  deep. 
On  that  majestic  form,  as  if  she  saw 
Her  dreams  of  tenderest  thought  made  true^ 

and  grace 
Fairer  than  mortal  fire  her  breast.     But  he 
Passed  onw^ard  with  the  bowl  and  yellow  robe^. 
By  mild  speech  paying  all  those  gifts  of  hearts^ 
Wending  his  way  back  to  the  solitudes 
To  sit  upon  his  hill  wdth  holy  men, 
And  hear  and  ask  of  wisdom  and  its  roads, 

Midway  on  Ratnagiri's  groves  of  calm, 
Beyond  the  city,  but  below  the  caves. 
Lodged  such  as  hold  the  body  foe  to  soul. 
And  flesh  a  beast  which  men  must  chain  and 

tame 
With  bitter  pains,  till  sense  of  pain  is  killed, 
And  tortured  nerves  vex  torturer  no  more — 
Yogis  and  Brahmacharis,  Bhikshus,  all 
A  gaunt  and  mournful  band,  dwelling  apart. 
Some    day   and    night   had  stood  with   lifted 

arms. 
Till — drained  of  blood  and   withered  by  dis- 
ease— 
Their  slowly-wasting  joints  and  stiffened  limbs- 
Jutted  from  sapless  shoulders  like  dead  forks 


ii8  ^be  XiQbt  ot  Bsia. 

JFrom   forest   trunks.      Others   had   clenched 

their  hands 
So  long  and  with  so  fierce  a  fortitude, 
The  claw-like  nails  grew  through  the  festered 

palm. 
Some  walked   on  sandals  spiked;  some  with 

sharp  flints 
■Gashed  breast  and  brow  and  thigh,   scarred 

these  wdth  fire, 
Threaded  their  flesh  with  jungle  thorns  and 

spits, 
Besmeared   with    mud   and   ashes,  crouching 

foul 
In  rags   of   dead  men  wrapped   about   their 

loins. 
Certain  there  were  inhabited  the  spots 
Where  death-pyres  smouldered,   cowering  de- 
filed 
With  corpses  for  their  company,  and  kites 
Screaming  around  them  o'er  the  funeral-spoils  : 
Certain  who  cried  five  hundred  times  a  day 
The  names  of  Shiva,  wound  with  darting  snakes 
About  their  sun-tanned  necks  and  hollow  flanks 
One  palsied  foot  drawn  up  against  the  ham. 
So  gathered  they,  a  grievous  company  ; 
Crowns  blistered  by  the  blazing  heat,   eyes 

bleared, 


Booft  tbc  mttb.  119 

Sinews  and  muscles  shrivelled,  visages 
Haggard  and  wan  as  slain  men's,   five  days 

dead  ; 
Here  crouched  one  in  the  dust  who  noon  by 

noon 
Meted  a  thousand  grains  of  millet  out, 
Ate  it  with  famished  patience,  seed  by  seed, 
And  so  starved  on ;  there  one  who  bruised  his 

pulse 
With  bitter  leaves  lest  palate  should  be  pleased; 
And  next,  a  miserable  saint  self-maimed, 
Eyeless  and  tongueless,  sexless,  crippled,  deaf ; 
The  body  by  the  mind  being  thus  stripped 
For  glory  of  much  suffering,  and  the  bliss 
Which  they  shall  win — say  holy  books — whose 

woe 
Shames  gods  that   send  us  woe,  and    makes 

men  gods 
Stronger  to  suffer  than  Hell  is  to  harm. 

Whom  sadly  eying  spake  our  Lord  to  one, 
Chief  of  the  woe-begones  :  "  Much- suffering  sir  I 
These  many  moons  I  dwell  upon  the  hill — 
Who  am  a  seeker  of  the  Truth — and  see 
My  brothers  here,  and  thee,  so  piteously 
Self-anguished  ;  wherefore  add  ye  ills  to  life 
Which  is  so  evil  ?  " 


I20  ^bc  XiGbt  Of  Bsia. 

Answer  made  the  sage ; 
"  Tis  written  if  a  man  shall  mortify 
His  flesh,  till  pain  be  grown  the  life  he  lives 
And  death  voluptuous  rest,  such  woes  shall 

purge 
Sin's  dross  away,  and  the  soul,  purified, 
Soar  from  the  furnace  of  its  sorrow,  winged 
For  glorious    spheres    and  splendor  past  all 

thought." 

"  Yon   cloud  which  floats  in  heaven,"  the 

Prince  replied, 
*'  Wreathed  like  gold  cloth  around  your  Indra's 

throne. 
Rose  thither  from  the  tempest-driven  sea ; 
But  it  must  fall  again  in  tearful  drops. 
Trickling  through  rough  and  painful  water-ways 
By  cleft  and  nullah  and  the  muddy  flood, 
To  Gunga  and  the  sea,  wherefrom  it  sprang. 
Know'st  thou,  my  brother,  if  it  be  not  thus, 
After  their  many  pains,  with  saints  in  bliss  ? 
Since  that  which  rises  falls,   and  that  which 

buys 
Is  spent ;  and  if  ye  buy  heav'n  with  your  blood 
In   hell's   hard   market,   when   the   bargain's 

through 
The  toil  begins  again  !  " 


JBooft  tbe  jfiftb.  121 

"  It  may  begin'" 
The  hermit  moaned.     "  Alas  !   we   know  not 

this, 
Xor  surely  anything  ;  yet  after  night 
Day  comes,  and  after  turmoil  peace,  and  we 
Hate  this  accursed  flesh  which  clogs  the  souf 
That  fain  would  rise ;  so,  for  the  sake  of  soul,. 
We  stake  brief  agonies  in  game  with  Gods 
To  gain  the  larger  joys." 

''  Yet  if  they  last 
A  myriad  years,"  he  said,  "  they  fade  at  lengthy 
Those  joys  ;  or  if  not,  is  there  then  some  life 
Below,  above,  beyond,  so  unlike  life 
It  will  not  change  ?     Speak  !  do  your  Gods 

endure 
For  ever,  brothers  ?  " 

"  Nay,"  the  Yogis  said^ 
"  Only  great  Brahm   endures  :  the  Gods  but 

live." 

Then  spake  Lord  Buddha  :  "  Will  ye,  being- 

wise, 
As  ye  seem  holy  and  strong-hearted  ones, 
Throw  these  sore  dice,  which  are  your  groans 

and  moans. 
For  gains  which  may  be    dreams,  and   must 

have  end  ? 


122  ^be  Xl0bt  of  Bsia. 

Will  ye,  for  love  of  soul,  so  loathe  your  flesh, 
So  scourge  and  maim  it,  that  it  shall  not  serve 
To  bear  the  spirit  on,  searching  for  home, 
But  founder  on  the  track  before  nightfall. 
Like  willing  steed  o'er-spurred  ?     Will  ye,  sad 

sirs. 
Dismantle  and  dismember  this  fair  house. 
Where  we  have  come  to  dwell  by  painful  pasts  ; 
Whose  windows  give  us  light — the  little  light — 
Whereby  we  gaze  abroad  to  know  if  dawn 
Will   break,   and    whither   winds    the    better 

road  ? " 

Then  cried  they,  "  We  have  chosen  this  for 

road 
And  tread  it,  Rajaputra,  till  the  close — 
Though  all  its  stones  were  fire — in  trust  of 

death. 
Speak,  if  thou  know'st  a  way  more  excellent ; 
If  not,  peace  go  with  thee  !  " 

Onward  he  passed, 
Exceeding  sorrowful,  seeing  how  men 
Fear  so  to  die  they  are  afraid  to  fear, 
Lust  so  to  live  they  dare  not  love  their  life, 
But  plague  it  with  fierce  penances,  belike 
To  please  the  Gods  who  grudge  pleasure  to 
man ; 


Booft  tbe  mttb.  123 

Belike  to  balk* hell  by  self-kindled  hells ; 

Belike  in  holy  madness,  hoping  soul 

May  break  the    better  through    their  wasted 

flesh. 
"  Oh,  flowerets  of  the  field  !  "  Siddartha  said, 
"  Who  turn  your  tender  faces  to  the  sun — 
Glad  of  the  light,  and  grateful  with  sweet  breath 
Of  fragrance    and  these   robes   of  reverence 

donned 
Silver  and  gold  and  purple — none  of  ye 
Miss  perfect  living,  none  of  ye  despoil 
Your  happy  beauty.     Oh,  ye  palms  !  which  rise 
Eager  to  pierce  the  sky  and  drink  the  wind 
Blown  from  Malaya  and  the  cool  blue  seas, 
What  secret  know  ye  that  ye  grow  content, 
From  time  of  tender  shoot  to  time  of  fruit, 
Murmuring  such  sun-songs  from  your  feathered. 

crowns  ? 
Ye,  too,  who  dwell  so  merry  in  the  trees — 
Quick-darting     parrots,     bee-birds,     bulbuls^ 

doves — 
None  of  ye  hate  your  life,  none  of  ye  deem 
To  strain  to  better  by  foregoing  needs  ! 
But  man,  who  slays  ye — being  lord — is  wise, 
And  wisdom,    nursed   on  blood,  cometh  thus- 

forth 
In  self-tormentings !  " 


124  ^^^  Xisbt  of  Bsia* 

\Miile  the  Master  spake 
Blew  down  the  mount  the  dust  of  pattering  feet, 
White  goats  and  black   sheep  win-ding  slow 

their  way, 
With  many  a  lingering  nibble  at  the  tufts. 
And  wanderings  from  the  path,  where  water 

gleamed 
Or  wild  figs  hung.     But  always  as  they  strayed 
The  herdsman  cried,  or  slung  his  sling,  and 

kept 
The  silly  crowd  still  moving  to  the  plain. 
A  ewe  with  couplets  in  the  flock  there  was, 
Some  hurt  had  lamed  one  lamb,  w^hich  toiled 

behind 
Bleeding,  while  in  the  front  its  fellow  skipped, 
And  the  vexed  dam  hither  and  thither  ran, 
JFearful  to  lose  this  little  one  or  that ; 
Which  when  our  Lord  did  mark,  full  tenderly 
He  took  the  limping  lamb  upon  his  neck. 
Saying,  "  Poor  woolly  mother,  be  at  peace  ! 
Whither  thou  goest  I  will  bear  thy  care  ; 
'Twere  all  as  good  to  ease  one  beast  of  grief 
As  sit  and  watch  the  sorrows  of  the  world 
In  yonder  caverns  with  the  priests  who  pray." 

"**  But,"  spake  he  to  the  herdsmen,  "where- 
fore, friends  ! 


:ffiooft  tbe  3fittb.  125 

Drive  ye  the  flocks  adown  under  high  noon, 
Since   'tis   at    evening   that   men    fold   their 
sheep  ?  " 

And  answer  gave  the  peasants  :  "  We  are 

sent 
To  fetch  a  sacrifice  of  goats  five  score, 
And  five  score  sheep,  the  which  our  Lord  the 

King 
Slayeth  this  night  in  worship  of  his  gods." 

Then  said  the  Master :  "  I  will  also  go  !  " 
So  paced  he  patiently,  bearing  the  lamb 
Beside  the  herdsmen  in  the  dust  and  sun, 
The  wistful  ewe  low-bleating  at  his  feet. 

Whom,  when  they  came  unto  the  river-side, 
A  woman — dove-eyed,  young,  wdth  tearful  face 
And  lifted  hands — saluted,  bending  low  : 
"  Lord  !  thou  art  he,"  she  said,  "  who  yesterday 
Had  pity  on  me  in  the  fig-grov.e  here, 
W^here  I  live  lone  and  reared  my  child  ;  but  he 
Straying  amid  the  blossoms  found  a  snake, 
Which  twined  about  his  wrist,  whilst  he  did 

laugh 
And  tease  the  quick  forked  tongue  and  opened 

mouth 


126  Z\)c  %\Qbt  of  Bsla. 

Of  that  cold  playmate.     But,  alas  !  ere  long 
He  turned  so  pale  and  still,  I  could  not  think 
Why  he  should  cease  to  play,  and  let  my  breast 
Fall   from  his   lips.     And   one  said,  '  He   is 

sick 
Of  poison  ; '  and  another,  '  He  will  die.' 
But  I,  who  could  not  lose  my  precious  boy, 
Prayed  of  them  physic,  which  might  bring  the 

light 
Back  to  his  eyes ;  it  was  so  very  small 
That  kiss-mark  of  the  serpent,  and  I  think 
It  could  not  hate  him,  gracious  as  he  was. 
Nor  hurt  him  in    his   sport.     And  some  one 

said, 

*  There  is  a  holy  man  upon  the  hill — 
Lo  !  now  he  passeth  in  the  yellow  robe — 
Ask  of  the  Rishi  if  there  be  a  cure 

For  that  which  ails  thy  son.'  Whereon  I  came 
Trembling  to  thee,  whose  brow  is  like  a  god's, 
And  wept  and  drew  the  face  cloth  from  my 

babe. 
Praying  thee  tell  what  simples  might  be  good. 
And  thou,  great  sir  !  didst  spurn  me  not.  but 

gaze 
With  gentle  eyes  and  touch  with  patient  hand ; 
Then  draw  the  face-cloth  back,  saying  to  me. 

*  Yea  !  little  sister,  there  is  that  might  heal 


:©ooft  tbe  3fittb.  127 

Thee  first,  and  him,  if  thou  couldst  fetch  the 

thing ; 
For  they  who  seek  physicians  bring  to  them 
What   is    ordained.     Therefore,   I  pray  thee, 

find 
Black  mustard-seed,  a  tola  ;  only  mark 
Thou  take  it  not  from  any  hand  or  house 
Where  father,    mother,    child,  or   slave   hath 

died ;  '^ 

It  shall  be  well  if  thou  canst  find  such  seed.' 
Thus  didst  thou  speak,  my  Lord !  " 

The  Master  smiled 
Exceeding  tenderly.     "  Yea  !  I  spake  thus, 
Dear  Kisagotami !     But  didst  thou  find 
The  seed.?" 

"  I  went.  Lord,  clasping  to  my  breast 
The  babe,  grown  colder,  asking  at  each  hut- 
Here  in  the  jungle  and  towards  the  town — 

*  I  pray  you,  give  me  mustard,  of  your  grace, 
A  tola — black  ; '  and  each  who  had  it  gave. 
For  all  the  poor  are  piteous  to  the  poor ; 

But  when  I  asked,  '  In  my  friend's  household 

here 
Hath  any  peradventure  ever  died — 
Husband  or  wife,  or   child,  or  slave  ? '  they 

said  : 

*  O  Sister !  what  is  this  you  ask  ?  the  dead 


128  ^be  XiQbt  ot  2l6ia. 

Are  very  many,  and  the  living  few  ! ' 
So  with  sad  thanks  I  gave  the  mustard  back, 
And  prayed  of  others  ;  but  the  others  said, 
'  Here  is  the  seed,  but  we  have  lost  our  slave  ! ' 
'  Here  is  the  seed,  but  our  good  man  is  dead  ! ' 
'  Here  is  some  seed,  but  he  that  sowed  it  died 
Between  the  rain-time  and  the  harvesting ! ' 
Ah,  sir !     I  could  not  find  a  single  house 
Where  there  was  mustard-seed  and  none  had 

died! 
Therefore  I  left  my  child — who  would  not  suck 
Nor   smile — beneath    the    wild-vines   by   the 

stream, 
To  seek  thy  face  and  kiss  thy  feet,  and  pray 
Where   I  might  find  this   seed  and   find  no 

death. 
If  now,  indeed,  my  baby  be  not  dead. 
As  I  do  fear,  and  as  they  said  to  me." 

•  "  My  sister  !  thou   hast  found,"  the  Master 

said, 
"  Searching  for  what  none  finds — that  bitter 

balm 
I  had  to  give  thee.     He  thou  lovedst  slept 
Dead  on  thy  bosom  yesterday :  to-day 
Thou  know'st  the  whole  wide  world  weeps  with 

thy  woe  : 


JSool;  tbe  3fittb.  129 

The  grief  which  all  hearts  share  grows  less  for 

one. 
Lo  !    I  would  pour  my  blood  if  it  could  stay 
Thy  tears  and  win  the  secret  of  that  curse 
Which   makes   sweet   love    our    anguish,    and 

which  drives 
O'er  flowers  and  pastures  to  the  sacrifice — 
As  these  dumb  beasts  are  driven — men  their 

lords. 
I  seek  that  secret :  bury  thou  thy  child !  " 

So  entered  they  the  city  side  by  side, 
The  herdsmen  and  the  Prince,  what  time  the 

sun 
Gilded  slow  Sona's  distant  stream,  and  threw 
Long  shadows  down  the    street  and  through 

the  gate 
Where  the  King's  men  kept  watch.     But  when 

these  saw 
Our  Lord  bearing  the  lamb,  the  guards  stood 

back. 
The  market-people  drew  their  wains  aside. 
In  the  bazaar  buyers  and  sellers  stayed 
The  war  of  tongues  to  gaze  on  that  mild  face ; 
The  smith,  with  lifted  hammer  in  his  hand, 
Forgot  to  strike  ;  the  weaver  left  his  web. 
The  scribe  his  scroll,  the  money-changer  lost 

9 


130  ^be  Xlabt  of  Bsia. 

His  count  of  cowries  ;  from  the  unwatched  rice 
Shiva's  white  bull  fed  free  ;  the  wasted  milk 
Ran  o'er  the  lota  while  the  milkers  watched 
The  passage  of  our  Lord  moving  so  meek, 
With  yet  so  beautiful  a  majesty. 
But  most  the  women  gathering  in  the  doors 
Asked,  "  Who  is  this  that  brings  the  sacrifice 
So  graceful  and  peace-giving  as  he  goes  ? 
What  is  his  caste  ?  whence  hath  he  eyes  so 

sweet  ? 
Can  he  be  Sakra  or  the  Devaraj  ?  " 
And  others  said,  ''  It  is  the  holy  man 
Who  dwelleth  with  the  Rishis  on  the  hill." 
But  the  Lord  paced,  in  meditation  lost, 
Thinking,  "  Alas  !  for  all  my  sheep  which  have 
No  shepherd ;  wandering   in  the    night  with 

none 
To  guide  them  ;  bleating  blindly  towards  the 

knife 
Of  Death,  as  these    dumb  beasts  which  are 

their  kin." 

Then  some  one    told    the   King,    "  There 
Cometh  here 
A  holy  hermit,  bringing  down  the  flock 
Which  thou  didst  bid  to  crown  the  sacrifice." 

The  King  stood  in  his  hall  of  offering, 


3Boo?i  tbc  Jfiftb.  131 

On   either  hand    the   white-robed    Brahmans 

ranged 
Muttered  their  mantras,  feeding  still  the  fire 
Which  roared  upon  the  midmost  altar.    There 
From  scented  woods   flickered  bright  tongues 

of  flame, 
Hissing  and  curling  as  they  licked  the  gifts 
Of  ghee  and  spices  and  the  Soma  juice, 
The  joy  of  Indra.     Round  about  the  pile 
A  slow,  thick,   scarlet  streamlet    smoked  and 

ran. 
Sucked  by  the  sand,  but  ever  rolling  down, 
The  blood  of  bleating  victims.     One  such  lay, 
A  spotted  goat,   long-horned,  its  head  bound 

back 
With  munja  grass  ;  at  its  stretched  throat  the 

knife 
Pressed   by  a  priest,  who  murmured,  "This, 

dread  gods, 
Of  many  yajnas  cometh  as  the  crown 
From  Bimbasara  :  take  ye  joy  to  see 
The  spirted  blood,  and  pleasure  in  the  scent 
Of  rich  flesh  roasting  'mid  the  fragrant  flames  ; 
Let  the  King's  sins  be  laid  upon  this  goat, 
And  let  the  fire  consume  them  burning  it, 
For  now  I  strike." 

But  Buddha  softly  said, 


132  ^be  Xlsbt  ot  Beia, 

"  Let  him  not  strike,  great  King  !  "  and  there- 
with loosed 
The  victim's  bonds,  none  staying  him,  so  great 
His  presence  was.     Then,  craving  leave,  he 

spake 
Of  life,  which  all  can  take  but  none  can  give, 
Life,  which   all   creatures   love    and  strive   to 

keep. 
Wonderful,  dear  and  pleasant  unto  each. 
Even  to  the  meanest ;  yea,  a  boon  to  all 
Where  pity  is,  for  pity  makes  the  world 
Soft  to  the  weak  and  noble  for  the  strong. 
Unto  the  dumb  lips  of  his  flock  he  lent 
Sad  pleading  words,   showing  how  man,  who 

prays 
For  mercy  to  the  gods,  is  merciless. 
Being  as  god  to  those ;  albeit  all  life 
Is  linked   and  kin,    and   what  we    slay  have 

given 
Meek  tribute  of  the  milk  and  wool,  and  set 
Fast  trust  upon  the  hands  which  murder  them. 
Also  he  spake  of  what  the  holy  books 
Do  surely  teach,  how  that  at  death  some  sink 
To  bird  and  beast,  and  these  rise  up  to  man 
In  wanderings  of  the  spark  which  grows  purged 

flame. 
So  were  the  sacrifice  new  sin,  if  so 


3Booft  tbc  Jfittb.  133 

The  fated  passage  of  a  soul  be  stayed. 

Nor,  spake  he,  shall  one  wash  his  spirit  clean 

By  blood  ;  nor  gladden  gods,  being  good,  with 

blood  ; 
Nor  bribe  them,  being  evil ;  nay,  nor  lay 
Upon  the  brow  of  innocent  bound  beasts 
One  hair's  weight  of  that  answer  all  must  give 
For  all  things  done  amiss  or  wrongfully. 
Alone,  each  for  himself,  reckoning  with  that 
The  fixed  arithmic  of  the  universe. 
Which  meteth  good  for  good  and  ill  for  ill, 
Measure    for    measure,    unto    deeds,    words, 

thoughts ; 
Watchful,  aware,  implacable,  unmoved ; 
Making  all,  futures  fruits  of  all  the  pasts. 
Thus  spake  he,  breathing  words  so  piteous 
With  such  high  lordliness  of  ruth  and  right. 
The  priests  drew  back  their  garments  o'er  the 

hands 
Crimsoned  with  slaughter,  and  the  King  came 

near. 
Standing    with    clasped    palms    reverencing 

Buddh ; 
While   still  our  Lord  went   on,  teaching  how 

fair 
This  earth  were  if  all  living  things  be  linked 
In  friendliness  and  common  use  of  foods. 


134  ^be  Xiflbt  of  Bsia. 

Bloodless   and  pure  ;  the  golden  grain,  bright 

fruits, 
Sweet  herbs  which  grow  for  all,  the  waters  wan, 
Sufficient   drinks   and    meats.      Which  when 

these  heard. 
The  might  of  gentleness  so  conquered  them, 
The  priests  themselves  scattered  their  altar- 
flames 
And  flung  away  the  steel  of  sacrifice  ; 
And    through    the   land   next   day   passed   a 

decree 
Proclaimed  by  criers,  and  in  this  wise  graved 
On  rock  and  column  :  "  Thus  the  King's  will 

is  : — 
There  hath  been  slaughter  for  the  sacrifice 
And    slaying   for   the    meat,    but     henceforth 

none 
Shall  spill  the  blood  of  life  nor  taste  of  flesh, 
Seeing  that  knowledge  grows,  and  life  is  one, 
And  mercy  cometh  to  the  merciful." 
So  ran  the  edit,  and  from  those  days  forth 
Sweet   peace  hath  spread  between   all  living 

kind, 
Man  and  the  beasts  which   serve  him,  and  the 

birds. 
On  all  those  banks  of  Gunga  where  our  Lord 
Taught  with  his  saintly  pity  and  soft  speech. 


JSooh  tbe  ifittb.  135 

For  aye  so  piteous  was  the  Master's  heart 
To  all  that  breathe  this  breath  of  fleeting  life, 
Yoked  in  one  fellowship  of  joys  and  pains, 
That  it  is  written  in  the  holy  books 
How,  in  an  ancient  age — when  Buddha  wore 
A  Brahman's  form,  dwelling  upon  the  rock 
Named  Munda,  by  the  village  of  Dalidd — 
Drought  withered  all  the  land :  the  young  rice 

died 
Ere  it  could  hide  a  quail ;  in  forest  glades 
A  fierce  sun  sucked  the  pools  ;  grasses  and 

herbs 
Sickened,  and  all  the  woodland  creatures  fled 
Scattering  for  sustenance.     At  such  a  time. 
Between  the  hot  walls  of  a  nullah,  stretched 
On  naked  stones,  our  Lord  spied,  as  he  passed, 
A  starving  tigress.     Hunger  in  her  orbs 
Glared  with  green  flame  ;  her  dry  tongue  lolled 

a  span 
Beyond  the  gasping  jaws  and  shrivelled  jowl ; 
Her  painted  hide  hung  wrinkled  on  her  ribs, 
As  when  between  the  rafters  sinks  a  thatch 
Rotten  with  rains  ;  and  at  the  poor  lean  dugs 
Two  cubs,  whining  with  famine,  tugged  and 

sucked, 
Mumbling  those  milkless  teats  which  rendered 

nought, 


336  ^be  Xiabt  ot  B6fa» 

While  she,  their  gaunt  dam,  licked  full  motherly 
The  clamorous  twins,  yielding  her  flank  to  them 
With  moaning  throat,  and  love  stronger  than 

want, 
Softening  the  first  of  that  wild  cry  wherewith 
She  laid  her  famished  muzzle  to  the  sand 
And  roared  a  savage  thunder-peal  of  woe. 
Seeing  which  bitter  strait,  and  heeding  nought 
Save  the  immense  compassion  of  a  Buddh, 
Our  Lord  bethought,  "  There  is  no  other  way 
To  help  this  murderess  of  the  woods  but  one. 
By  sunset  these  will  die,  having  no  meat  : 
There  is  no  living  heart  will  pity  her. 
Bloody  with  ravin,  lean  for  lack  of  blood. 
Lo  !  if  I  feed  her,  w^ho  shall  lose  but  I, 
And  how  can  love  lose  doing  of  its  kind 
Even  to  the  uttermost  ?  "     So  saying,  Buddh 
Silently  laid  aside  sandals  and  staff, 
His  sacred  thread,  turban,  and  cloth,  and  came 
Forth  from  behind  the  milk-bush  on  the  sand, 
Saying,  "  Ho  !  mother,  here  is  meat  for  thee  !  " 
Whereat  the  perishing  beast  yelped  hoarse  and 

shrill, 
Sprang  from  her  cubs,  and,  hurling  to  the  earth 
That  willing  victim,  had  her  feast  of  him 
With  all  the  crooked  daggers  of  her  claws 
Rending  his  flesh,  and  all  her  yellow  fangs 


»oo?i  tbe  mttb.  137 

Bathed  in  his  blood  :  the  great  cat's  burning 

breath 
Mixed  with  the  last  sigh  of  such  fearless  love. 


Thus  large  the  Master's  heart  was  long  ago, 
Not  only  now,  when  with  his  gracious  ruth 
He  bade  cease  cruel  worship  of  the  Gods. 
And  much  King  Bimbasara  prayed  our  Lord — 
Learning  his  royal  birth  and  holy  search — 
To  tarry  in  that  city,  saying  oft, 
"  Thy  princely  state  may  not  abide  such  fasts  ; 
Thy  hands  were  made  for  sceptres,   not   for 

alms. 
Sojourn  with  me,  who  have  no  son  to  rule, 
And  teach  my  kingdom  wisdom,  till  I  die. 
Lodged  in  my  palace  with  a  beauteous  bride." 
But  ever  spake  Siddartha,  of  set  mind, 
*'  These  things   I  had,  most  noble  King,  and 

left. 
Seeking  the  Truth ;    which  still  I  seek,  and 

shall  ; 
Not  to  be  stayed  though   Sakra's  palace  ope'd 
Its  doors  of  pearl  and  Devis  wooed  me  in. 
I  go  to  build  the  Kingdom  of  the  Law, 
Journeying  to  Gaya  and  the  forest  shades, 
Where,  as  I  think,  the  light  will  come  to  me ; 
For  nowise  here  among  the  Rishis  comes 


138  ^be  Xlflbt  of  B6ia. 

That  light,  nor  from  the  Shasters,   nor  from 

fasts 
Borne  till  the  body  faints,  starved  by  the  soul. 
Yet  there  is  light  to  reach  and  truth  to  win ; 
And  surely,  O  true  Friend,  if  I  attain 
I  will  return  and  quit  thy  love." 

Thereat 
Thrice   round    the    Prince     King  Bimbasara 

paced. 
Reverently  bending  to  the  Master's  feet, 
And  bade  him  speed.     So  passed  our  Lord 

away 
Towards  Uravilva,  not  yet  comforted. 
And  wan  of  face,  and  weak  with  six  years* 

quest. 
But  they  upon  the  hill  and  in  the  grove — 
Alara,  Udra,  and  the  ascetics  five — 
Had  stayed  him,  saying  all  was  written  clear 
In  holy  Shasters,  and  that  none  might  win 
Higher  than  Sruti  and  than  Smriti — nay. 
Not  the  chief  saints  ! — for  how  should  mortal 

man 
Be  wiser  than  the  Jnana-Kand,  which  tells 
How  Brahm  is  bodiless  and  actionless. 
Passionless,  calm,  unqualified,  unchanged, 
Pure  life,  pure  thought,  pure  joy  ?     Or  how 

should  man 


:©ooft  tbe  ifittb  139 

Be  better  than  the  Karm ma- Kan d, which  shows 
How  he  may  strip  passion  and  action  off, 
Break  from  the  bond  of  self,  and  so,  unsphered, 
Be  God,  and  melt  into  the  vast  divine. 
Flying  from  false  to  true,  from  wars  of  sense 
To  peace  eternal,  where  the  silence  lives  ? 

But  the  Prince  heard  them,  not  yet  comforted. 


140  Zbc  %iQbt  ot  B0ia» 


§00fe  m  ^ixtlt. 


Thou  who  wouldst  see  where  dawned  the  light 

at  last, 
North-westwards   from  the    "Thousand   Gar- 
dens "go    . 
By  Gunga's  valley  till  thy  steps  be  set 
On  the  green  hills  where  those  twin  streamlets 

spring 
Nilijan  and  Mohana ;  follow  them, 
Winding  beneath  broad-leaved  mahiia-trees, 
'Mid  thickets  of  the  sansar  and  the  bir, 
Till  on  the  plain  the  shining  sisters  meet 
In  Phalgii's  bed,  flowing  by  rocky  banks 
To  Gaya  and  the  red  Barabar  hills. 
Hard  by  that  river  spreads  a  thorny  waste, 
Uruwelaya  named  in  ancient  days, 
With  sandhills  broken  ;  on  its  verge  a  wood 
Waves  sea-green  plumes  and  tassels  'thwart 

the  sky, 
With  undergrowth  wherethrough  a  still  flood 

steals. 
Dappled  with  lotus-blossoms,  blue  and  white, 


JBooR  tbe  Siitb.  141 

And  peopled  with  quick  fish  and  tortoises. 
Near  it  the  village  of  Senani  reared 
Its  roofs  of  grass,  nestled  amid  the  palms, 
Peaceful  with  simple  folk  and  pastoral  toils. 

There  in  the  sylvan  solitudes  once  more 
Lord  Buddha  lived,  musing  the  w^oes  of  men, 
The  ways  of  fate,  the  doctrines  of  the  books, 
The  lessons  of  the  creatures  of  the  brake, 
The  secrets  of  the  silence  whence  all  come, 
The  secrets  of  the  gloom  whereto  all  go, 
The  life  which  lies  between,  hke  that  arch 

flung 
From  cloud  to  cloud  across  the  sky,   which 

hath 
Mists  for  its  masonry  and  vapory  piers, 
Melting  to  void  again  which  was  so  fair 
With  sapphire  hues,  garnet,  and  chrysoprase. 
Moon  after  moon  our  Lord  sate  in  the  wood, 
So  meditating  these  that  he  forgot 
Ofttimes  the  hour  of  food,  rising  from  thoughts 
Prolonged  beyond  the  sunrise  and  the  noon 
To  see  his  bowl  unfilled,  and  eat  perforce 
Of  wild  fruit  fallen  from  the  boughs  o'erhead. 
Shaken  to  earth  by  chattering  ape   or  plucked 
By  purple  parokeet.     Therefore  his  grace 
Faded  ;  his  body,  worn  by  stress  of  soul, 


142  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsia. 

Lost  day  by  day  the  marks,  thirty  and  two, 
Which  testify  the  Buddha.     Scarce  that  leaf, 
Fluttering  so  dry  and  withered  to  his  feet 
From  off  the  sal-branch,  bore  less  likeliness 
Of  spring's  soft  greenery  than  he  of  him 
Who  was  the  princely  flower  of  all  his  land. 

And  once  at  such  a  time  the  overwrought 
Prince 
Fell  to  the  earth  in  deadly  sworn,  all  spent, 
Even  as  one  slain,  who  hath  no  longer  breath 
Nor  any  stir  of  blood ;  so  wan  he  was, 
So  motionless.     But  there  came  by  that  way 
A  shepherd-boy,  who  saw  Siddartha  lie 
With  lids  fast-closed,  and  lines  of  nameless 

pain 
Fixed  on  his  lips — the  fiery  noonday  sun 
Beating  upon  his  head — who,  plucking  boughs 
From  wild  rose-apple  trees,  knitted  them  thick 
Into  a  bower  to  shade  the  sacred  face. 
Also  he  poured  upon  the  Master's  lips 
Drops  of  w^arm  milk,  pressed  from  his  she- 
goat's  bag, 
Lest,  being  of  low  caste,  he  do  wrong  to  one 
So  high  and  holy  seeming.     But  the  books 
Tell  how  the  jambu-branches,  planted  thus, 
Shot  with  quick  life  in  wealth  of    leaf  and 
flower 


:fiSooft  tbe  Siitb- 


143 


And  glowing  fruitage  interlaced  and  close, 
So  that  the  bo\^'er  grew  like  a  tent  of  silk 
Pitched  for   a  king  at  hunting,  decked  with 

studs 
Of  silver-work  and  bosses  of  red  gold. 
And  the  boy  worshipped,  deeming  him  some 

God; 
But  our  Lord  gaining  breath,  arose  and  asked 
Milk  in  the  shepherd's  lota.     "  Ah,  my  Lord, 
I  cannot  give  thee,"  quoth  the  lad  ;    *'  thou 

seest 
I  am  a  Sudra,  and  my  touch  defiles  !  " 
Then   the  World-honored  spake  :  "  Pity  and 

need 
Make  all  flesh  kin.  There  is  no  caste  in  blood. 
Which  runneth  of  one  hue,  nor  caste  in  tears. 
Which  trickle  salt  with  all ;  neither  comes  man 
To  birth  with  tilka-mark  stamped  on  the  brow, 
Nor  sacred  thread  on  neck.     Who  doth  right 

deeds 
Is  twice-born,  and  who  doeth  ill  deeds  vile. 
Give  me  to  drink,  my  brother ;  when  I  come 
Unto  my  quest  it  shall  be  good  for  thee." 
Thereat    the   peasant's  heart   was  glad,  and 

gave. 

And  on  another  day  there  passed  that  road 


144  ^^^  XfQbt  Of  Bsia. 

A  band  of  tinselled  girls,  the  nautch-dancers 
Of  Indra's  temple  in  the  town,  with  those 
Who  made  their  music — one  that  beat  a  drum 
Set  round  with  peacock-feathers,  one  that  blew 
The  piping  bansuli,  and  one  that  twitched 
A    three-string    sitar.      Lightly  tripped    they 

down 
From  ledge  to  ledge  and  through  the  chequered 

paths 
To  some  gay  festival,  the  silver  bells 
Chiming  soft  peals  about  the  small  brown  feet, 
Armlets  and  wrist-rings  tattling  answer  shrill ; 
While  he  that  bore  the   sitar  thrummed  and 

twanged 
His  threads   of   brass,    and    she   beside   him 

sang — 

**  Fair  goes  the  dancing  when  the  sitar' s  tuned; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  7ieither  low  nor  high, 
And  we  will  dance  away  the  hearts  0/ men. 

Tlie  string    overstretched    breaks,     and  the 

music  flies; 
The  string  derslack   is    dumb,    and   music 

dies  ; 
Tune  us  the  sitar  neither  low  nor  high. " 

So  sang  the  nautch-girl  to  the  pipe  and  wires, 


:Boo\{  tbe  Sixth.  145 

Fluttering  like  some  vain,  painted  butterfly 
From  glade  to  glade  along  the  forest  path, 
Nor  dreamed  her  light  words   echoed  on  the 

ear 
Of  him,  that  holy  man,  who  sate  so  rapt 
Under  the  fig-tree  by  the  path.     But  Buddh 
Lifted  his  great  brow  as  the  wantons  passed, 
And  spake  :   "  The  foolish  ofttimes  teach  the 

wise ; 
I  strain  too  much  this  string  of  life,  belike. 
Meaning  to  make  such  music  as  shall  save. 
Mine  eyes  are  dim  now  that  they  see  the  truth, 
My  strength   is  waned  now  that  my  need   is 

most ; 
Would  that  I  had  such  help  as  man  must  have, 
For  I  shall  die,  whose  life  was  all  men's  hope.** 

Now,  by  that  river  dwelt  a  landholder 
Pious  and  rich,  master  of  many  herds, 
A  goodly  chief,  the  friend  of  all  the  poor  ; 
And  from  his  house  the  village  drew  its  name — 
*'  Senani."    Pleasant  and  in  peace  he  lived, 
Having  for  wife  Sujata,  loveliest 
Of  all  the  dark-eyed  daughters  of  the  plain  ; 
Gentle  and  true,  simple  and  kind  was  she. 
Noble  of  mien,  with  gracious  speech  to  all 
And  gladsome  looks — a  pearl  of  womanhood — 
10 


146  Zbc  %\Qht  of  a6ia. 

Passing  calm  years  of  household  happiness 
Beside  her  lord  in  that  still  Indian  home, 
Save  that  no  male  child  blessed  their  wedded 

love. 
Wherefore    with   many   prayers   she  had   be- 
sought 
Lukshmi ;  and  many  nights  at  full-moon  gone 
Round   the   great   Lingam,    nine   times  nine, 

with  gifts 
Of  rice  and  jasmine  wreaths  and  sandal  oil, 
Praying  a  boy  ;  also  Sujata  vowed — 
If  this  should  be — an  offering  of  food 
Unto  the  Wood-God,  plenteous,  delicate, 
Set  in  a  bowl  of  gold  under  his  tree. 
Such  as  the  lips  of  Devs  may  taste  and  take. 
And  this  had  been :  for  there  was  born  to  her 
A  beauteous  boy,  now  three  months  old,  who  lay 
Between  Sujata's  breasts,  while  she  did  pace 
With  grateful   foot-steps  to  the  Wood-God's 

shrine, 
One  arm  clasping  her  crimson  sari  close 
To  wrap  the  babe,  that  jewel  of  her  joys, 
The  other  lifted  high  in  comely  curve 
To  steady  on  her  head  the  bowl  and  dish 
Which  held  the  dainty  victuals  for  the  God. 

But  Radha,  sent  before  to  sweep  the  ground 


:Boo1i  tbe  Siitb. 


47 


And  tie  the  scarlet  threads  around  the  tree, 
Came   eager,    crying,    "  Ah,    dear   Mistress ! 

look! 
There  is  the  Wood-God  sitting  in  his  place. 
Revealed,  with  folded  hands  upon  his  knees. 
See    how   the    light    shines    round   about  his 

brow  ! 
How  mild  and  great  he  seems,  with  heavenly 

eyes ! 
Good  fortune  is  it  thus  to  meet  the  gods." 

So, — thinking  him  divine, — Sujata  drew 
Tremblingly  nigh,  and   kissed  the  earth  and 

said, 
With  sweet  face  bent,  "  Would  that  the  Holy 

One 
Inhabiting  this  grove,  Giver  of  good. 
Merciful  unto  me  his  handmaiden. 
Vouchsafing  now  his  presence,  might  accept 
Thece  our  poor  gifts  of   snowy   curds,  fresh- 
made, 
W^ith  milk  as  white  as  new-carved  ivory  !  " 

Therewith  into  the  golden  bowl  she  poured 
The  curds    and    milk,  and    on   the    hands    of 

Buddh 
Dropped  attar  from  a  crystal  flask — distilled 


148  ^be  3Li0bt  of  Bsia. 

Out  of  the  hearts  of  roses  :  and  he  ate, 
Speaking   no   word,   while   the    glad   mother 

stood 
In  reverence  apart.     But  of  that  meal 
So  wondrous  was  the  virtue  that  our  Lord 
Felt  strength  and  life  return  as  though  the 

nights 
Of  watching  and  the  days  of  fast  had  passed 
In  dream,  as  though  the  spirit  with  the  flesh 
Shared  that  fine  meat  and  plumed  its  wings 

anew. 
Like  some  delighted  bird  at  sudden  streams 
Weary  with  flight  o'er  endless  wastes  of  sand, 
Which  laves  the  desert  dust  from  neck  and 

crest. 
And  more  Sujtaa  worshipped,  seeing  our  Lord 
Grow  fairer  and  his  countenance  more  bright : 
*'  Art  thou  indeed  the  God  ? "  she  lowly  asked, 
*'  And  hath  my  gift  found  favor  ?  " 

But  Buddh  said, 
"  What  is  it  thou  dost  bring  me  ?  " 

"  Holy  one  ! " 
Answered  Sujtaa,  "  from  our  droves  I  took 
Milk  of  a  hundred  mothers  newly-calved, 
And  with  that  milk  I  fed  fifty  white  cows. 
And  with  their  milk  twenty-and-five,  and  then 


:Sooft  tbe  Siitb*  149 

With  theirs  twelve  more,  and  yet  again  with 

theirs 
The  six  noblest  and  best  of  all  our  herds. 
That  yield  I  boiled  with  sandal  and  fine  spice 
In  silver  lotas,  adding  rice,  well  grown 
From  chosen  seed,  set  in  new-broken  ground. 
So  picked  that  every  grain  was  like  a  pearl. 
This  did  I  of  true  heart,  because  I  vowed 
Under  thy  tree,  if  I  should  bear  a  boy 
I  would  make  offering  for  my  joy,  and  now 
I  have  my  son  and  all  my  Hfe  is  bliss  !" 

Softly  our  Lord  drew  down  the  crimson  fold, 
And,  laying  on  the  little  head  those  hands 
Which  help  the  worlds,  he  said,  "  Long  be  thy 

bUss ! 
And  lightly  fall  on  him  the  load  of  life ! 
For  thou  hast  holpen  me  who  am  no  God, 
But  one,  thy  Brother  ;  heretofore  a  Prince 
And  now  a  wanderer,  seeking  night  and  day 
These  six  hard  years  that  light  which  some- 
where shines 
To  lighten  all  men's  darkness,  if  they  knew  ! 
And    I    shall    find    the    light;     yea,    now    it 

dawned 
Glorious  and  helpful,  when  my  weak  flesh  failed 
Which   this   pure  food,  fair    Sister,  hath   re- 
stored, 


150  Zbc  %iQbt  ot  Bsla, 

Drawn  manifold  through  lives  to  quicken  life 
As  life  itself  passes  by  many  births 
To  happier  heights  and  purging  off  of  sins. 
Yet  dost  thou  truly  find  it  sweet  enough 
Only  to  live  ?     Can  life  and  love  suffice  ?  " 

Answered  Sujtaa,  "  Worshipful !  my  heart 
Is  little,  and  a  little  rain  will  fill 
The  lily's  cup  which  hardly  moists  the  field. 
It  is  enough  for  me  to  feel  life's  sun 
Shine    in    my   Lord's   grace    and    my   baby's 

smile, 
Making  the  loving  summer  of  our  home. 
Pleasant  my  days  pass  filled  with  household 

cares 
From  sunrise  when  I  wake  to  praise  the  gods, 
And  give  forth  grain,  and  trim  the  tulsi-plant, 
And   set  my   handmaids   to  their   tasks,  till 

noon, 
When  my  Lord  lays  his  head  upon  my  lap 
Lulled  by  soft  songs  and  wavings  of  the  fan  ; 
And  so  to  supper-time  at  quiet  eve, 
When  by  his  side  I  stand  and  serve  the  cakes. 
Then  the   stars  light  their   silver   lamps  for 

sleep. 
After  the  temple  and  the  talk  with  friends. 
How  should  I  not  be  happy,  blest  so  much, 


:ffiooft  tbe  Siitb,  151 

And  bearing  him  this  boy  whose  tiny  hand 
Shall  lead  his  soul  to  Swerga,  if  it  need  ? 
For  holy  books  teach  when  a  man  shall  plant 
Trees  for  the  travellers'  shade,  and  dig  a  well 
For  the  folks'  comfort,  and  beget  a  son, 
It  shall  be  good  for  such  after  their  death ; 
And  what  the  books  say  that  I  humbly  take, 
Being  not  wiser  than  those  great  of  old 
Who  spake  with  gods,  and  knew  the  hymns. 

and  charms, 
And  all  the  ways  of  virtue  and  of  peace. 
Also  I  think  that  good  must  come  of  good 
And  ill  of  evil — surely — unto  all — 
In  every  place  and  time — seeing  sweet  fruit 
Groweth  from     wholesome    roots,   and    bitter 

things 
From    poison-stocks ;    yea,    seeing,    too,    how 

spite 
Breeds    hate,    and  kindness  friends,  and  pa- 
tience peace 
Even  while  we  live  ;  and  when  'tis  willed  we 

die 
Shall  there  not  be  as  good  a  '  Then  '  as  '  Now '  ? 
Haply  much  better !  since  one  grain  of  rice 
Shoots   a   green    feather    gemmed   with   fifty 

pearls, 
And  all  the  starry  champak's  white  and  gold 


152  Zbc  XiQbt  ot  Bsia* 

Lurks  in  those  little,  naked,  grey  spring-buds, 
Ah,  Sir !     I  know  there  might  be  woes  to  bear 
Would  lay  fond  Patience  with  her  face  in  dust ; 
If  this  my  babe  pass  first  I  think  my  heart 
Would  break — almost  I  hope  my  heart  would 

break ! 
That   I  might  clasp  him  dead   and  wait  my 

Lord — 
In  whatsoever  world  holds  faithful  wives — 
Duteous,  attending  till  his  hour  should  come. 
But  if  Death  called  Senani,  I  should  mount 
The  pile  and  lay  that  dear  head  in  my  lap. 
My  daily  way,  rejoicing  when  the  torch 
Lit  the  quick  flame  and  rolled  the  choking 

smoke. 
For  it  is  written  if  an  Indian  wife 
Die  so,  her  love  shall  give  her  husband's  soul 
For  every  hair  upon  her  head  a  crore 
Of  years  in  Swerga.     Therefore  fear  I  not. 
And  therefore,  Holy  Sir  !    my  life  is  glad, 
Nowise  forgetting  yet  those  other  lives 
Painful  and  poor,  wicked  and  miserable, 
Whereon  the  gods  grant  pity !  but  for  me, 
What  good  I  see  humbly  I  seek  to  do, 
And  live  obedient  to  the  law,  in  trust 
That  what  will  come,  and  must  come,  shall 

come  well. " 


JSooft  tbe  Siitb  153 

Then  spake  our  Lord,  "  Thou  teachest  them 

who  teach, 
Wiser  than  wisdom  in  thy  simple  lore. 
Be  thou  content  to  know  not,  knowing  thus 
Thy  way  of  right  and  duty  :  grow,  thou  flower  ! 
With  thy  sweet  kind  in  peaceful  shade — the 

light 
Of , Truth's  high  noon  is  not  for  tender  leaves 
Which   must   spread  broad  in  other  suns  and 

lift 
In  later  lives  a  crowned  head  to  the  sky. 
Thou  who  hast  worshipped  me,  I  worship  thee  I 
Excellent  heart !  learned  unknowingly. 
As  the  dove  is  which  flieth  home  by  love. 
In  thee  is  seen  why  there  is  hope  for  man 
And  where  we  hold  the  wheel  of  life  at  will. 
Peace  go  with  thee,  and  comfort  all  thy  days  I 
As  thou  accomplishest,  may  I  achieve  ! 
He  whom  thou  thoughtest  God  bids  thee  wish 

this." 


"  !May'st  thou  achieve,"  she  said,  with  ear- 
nest eyes 
Bent  on  her   babe,    who   reached   its   tender 

hands 
To  Buddh — knowing,  belike,  as  children  know. 
More  than  we  deem,  and  reverencing  our  Lord  ; 


154  ^t>c  ILigbt  of  B6la» 

But   he   arose — made    strong  with   that  pure 

meat — 
And  bent  his   footsteps   where  a  great   Tree 

grew, 
The  Bodhi-tree  (thenceforward  in  all  years 
Never  to  fade,  and  ever  to  be  kept 
In  homage  of  the  world),  beneath  whose  leaves 
It  was   ordained  that  truth   should  come  to 

Buddh : 
Which  now  the  Master  knew ;  w^herefore  he 

went 
With  measured  pace,  steadfast,  majestical, 
Unto  the  Tree  of  Wisdom.     Oh,  ye  Worlds  ! 
Rejoice  !  our  Lord  wended  unto  the  Tree  ! 

Whom — as  he  passed  into  its  ample  shade, 
Cloistered  with  columned  drooping  stems,  and 

roofed 
With  vaults  of  glistening  green — the  conscious 

earth 
Worshipped    with  waving  grass    and   sudden 

flush 
Of  flowers  about  his  feet.     The  forest-boughs 
Bent  down  to  shade  him  ;  from  the  river  sighed 
Cool  wafts  of  wind  laden  with  lotus-scents 
Breathed  by  the  water-gods.     Large  wonder- 
ing eyes 


:ffiooft  tbe  Siitb. 


155 


Of  woodland    creatures — panther,    boar,    and 

deer — 
At  peace  that  eve,  gazed  on  his  face  benign 
From  cave  and   thicket.     From  its  cold  cleft 

wound 
The  mottled  deadly  snake,  dancing  its  hood 
In  honor  of  our  Lord  ;   bright  butterflies 
Fluttered  their  vans,  azure  and  green  and  gold, 
To  be  his  fan-bearers  ;  the  fierce  kite  dropped 
Its  prey  and  screamed  ;  the  striped  palm-squir- 
rel raced 
From  stem  to  stem  to  see ;  the  weaver-bird 
Chirped  from  her   swinging  nest ;   the  lizard 

ran  ; 
The  koil   sang  her  hymn  ;  the   doves  flocked 

round  ; 
Even  the  creeping  things  were  'ware  and  glad. 
Voices  of  earth  and  air  joined  in  one  song, 
Which  unto  ears   that  hear  said,  "  Lord  and 

Friend ! 
Lover  and  Saviour  !     Thou  who  hast  subdued 
Angers    and   prides,    desires    and   fears    and 

doubts. 
Thou  that  for  each  and  all  hast  given  thyself, 
Pass  to  the  Tree  !     The  sad  world  blesseth  thee 
Who    art   the  Buddh  that  shall   assuage   her 

woes. 


156  ^be  Xigbt  of  Bsia, 

Pass,  Hailed  and  Honored !    strive   thy  last 

for  us, 
King   and   high    Conqueror !    thine    hour    is 

come  ; 
This  is  the  Night  the  ages  waited  for  !  " 

Then  fell  the  night  even  as  our  Master  sate 
Under  that  Tree.     But  he  who  is  the  Prince 
Of  Darkness,  Mara — knowing  this  was  Buddh 
Who  should  deliver  men,  and  now  the  hour 
When  he  should  find  the  Truth  and  save  the 

worlds 
Gave  unto  all  his  evil  powers  command. 
Wherefore  there  trooped  from  every  deepest 

pit 
The  fiends  who  war  with  Wisdom  and  the  Light, 
Arati,  Trishna,  Raga,  and  their  crew 
Of  passions,  horrors,  ignorances,  lusts. 
The  brood  of  gloom  and  dread ;    all  hating 

Buddh, 
Seeking  to  shake  his  mind  ;  nor  knoweth  one, 
Not  even  the  wisest,  how  those  fiends  of  Hell 
Battled   that  night  to  keep    the   Truth   from 

Buddh : 
Sometimes  with  terrors  of  the  tempest,  blasts 
Of  demon-armies  clouding  all  the  wind, 
With  thunder,  and  with  blinding  lightning  flung 


JBooft  tbe  Siitb,  157 

In  jagged  javelins  of  purple  wrath 

From  splitting  skies  ;  sometimes  with  wiles  and 

words 
Fair-sounding,  'mid  hushed  leaves  and  softened 

airs 
From    shapes   of    witching   beauty ;    wanton 

songs, 
Whispers  of  love  ;  sometimes  with  royal  allures 
Of  proffered  rule  ;    sometimes  with  mocking 

doubts, 
Making  truth  vain.     But  w^hether  these  befell 
Without  and  visible,  or  whether  Buddh 
Strove  with  fell  spirits  in  his  inmost  heart, 
Judge  ye  : — I  write  what  ancient  books  have 

writ. 

The  ten  chief  Sins  came — Mara's  mighty 

ones, 
Angels  of  evil — Attavada  first, 
The  Sin  of  Self,  who  in  the  Universe 
As  in  a  mirror  sees  her  fond  face  shown, 
And  crying  "  I  "  would  have  the  world  say  "  I," 
And  all  things  perish  so  if  she  endure. 
"  If  thou  be'st  Buddh,"  she  said,  "  let  others 

grope 
Lightless  ;  it  is  enough  that  thou  art  Thou 
Changelessly  ;  rise  and  take  the  bliss  of  gods 


158  ^be  XlQbt  of  Bsia. 

Who  change  not,  heed  not,  strive  not."     But 

Buddh  spake, 
*'  The  right  in  thee  is  base,  the  wrong  a  curse ; 
Cheat  such  as  love  themselves."     Then  came 

wan  Doubt, 
He  that  denies — the  mocking  Sin — and  this 
Hissed  in  the  Master's   ear,  "  All  things  are 

shows. 
And  vain  the  knowledge  of  their  vanity ; 
Thou  dost  but  chase  the  shadow  of  thyself  ; 
Rise  and  go  hence,  there  is  no  better  way 
Than  patient  scorn,  nor  any  help  for  man, 
Nor  any  staying  of  his  whirling  wheel." 
But  quoth  our  Lord,  "  Thou  hast  no  part  with 

me, 
False  Visikitcha,  subtlest  of  man's  foes." 
And  third  came  she  who  gives  dark   creeds 

their  power, 
Slabbat-paramasa,  sorceress. 
Draped  fair  in  many  lands  as  lowly  Faith, 
But  ever  juggling  souls  with  rites  and  prayers  ; 
The  keeper  of  those  keys  which  lock  up  Hells 
And  open  Heavens.     "  Wilt  thou  dare,"  she 

said, 
"Put   by   our   sacred    books,    dethrone     our 

gods. 
Unpeople  all  the  temples,  shaking  down 


JBooft  tbe  Siitb*  159 

That  law  which   feeds  the  priests  and  props 

the  reahns  ? " 
But  Buddha  answered,  "  What  thou  bidd'st  me 

keep 
Is   form   which   passes,  but   the    free  Truth 

stands ; 
Get  thee  untothy  darkness."     Next  there  drew 
Gallantly  nigh  a  braver  Tempter,  he, 
Kama,  the  King  of  passions,  who  hath  sway 
Over  the  Gods  themselves.  Lord  of  all  loves, 
Ruler    of    Pleasure's    realm.      Laughing    he 

came 
Unto  the  Tree,  bearing  his  bow  of  gold 
Wreathed  with  red  blooms,  and  arrows  of  de- 
sire 
Pointed  with  five-tongued  delicate  flame  which 

stings 
The  heart   it  smites  sharper    than   poisoned 

barb  : 
And  round  him  came  into  that  lonely  place 
Bands  of  bright  shapes  with  heavenly  eyes  and 

lips 
Singing  in  lovely  words  the  praise  of  Love 
To  music  of  invisible  sweet  chords. 
So  witching,  that  it  seemed  the  night  stood 

still 
To  hear  them,  and  the  listening  stars  and  moon 


i6o  ^be  XiQbt  ot  Bsia. 

Paused  in  their  orbits  while  these  hymned  to 

Buddh 
Of  lost  delights,  and  how  a  mortal  man 
Findeth  nought  dearer  in  the  three  wide  worlds 
Than  are  the  yielded  loving  fragrant  breasts 
Of  Beauty  and  the  rosy  breast-blossoms, 
Love's  rubies  ;  nay,  and  toucheth  nought  more 

high 
Than  is  that  dulcet  harmony  of  form 
Seen  in  the  lines  and  charms  of  loveliness 
Unspeakable,  yet  speaking,  soul  to  soul, 
Owned  by  the  bounding  blood,  worshipped  by 

will 
Which  leaps  to  seize  it,  knowing  this  is  best, 
This  the  true  heaven  where  mortals  are  like 

gods. 
Makers  and  Masters,  this  the  gift  of  gifts 
Ever  renewed  and  worth  a  thousand  woes. 
For  who  hath  grieved  when  soft  arms  shut  him 

safe, 
And  all  life  melted  to  a  happy  sigh. 
And  all  the  world  was  given  in  one  warm  kiss  ? 
So  sang  they  with  soft  float  of  beckoning  hands, 
Eyes  lighted  with  love-flames,  alluring  smiles ; 
In  dainty  dance  their  supple  sides  and  limbs 
Revealing  and  concealing  like  burst  buds 
Which  tell  their  color,  but  hide  yet  their  hearts. 


J6oo\{  tbc  Siitb.  i6l 

Never  so  matchless  grace  delighted  eye 

As     troop   by   troop   these   midnight-dancers 

swept 
Nearer  the  Tree,  each  daintier  than  the  last, 
Murmuring   "  O  great  Siddartha  !    I  am  thine. 
Taste  of  my  mouth  and  see  if  youth  is  sweet !  " 
Also,  when  nothing  moved  our  Master's  mind, 
Lo  !  Kama  waved  his  magic  bow,  and  lo  ! 
The  band  of  dancers  opened,  and  a  shape 
Fairest  and  stateliest  of  the  throng  came  forth 
Wearing  the  guise  of  sweet  Yasodhara. 
Tender  the  passion  of  those  dark  eyes  seemed 
Brimming  with  tears  ;  yearning  those  outspread. 

arms 
Opened  towards  him  ;  musical  that  moan 
Wherewith  the  beauteous  shadow  named  his 

name, 
Sighing  "  My  Prince  !  I  die  for  lack  of  thee  ! 
What  heaven  hast  thou  found  like   that  we 

knew 
By  bright  Rohini  in  the  Pleasure-house, 
Where  all  these  weary  years  I  weep  for  thee  ? 
Return,  Siddartha  !  ah  !  return.      But  touch 
My  lips  again,  but  let  me  to  thy  breast 
Once,  and  these  fruitless  dreams  will    end  I 

Ah,  look  ! 
Am  I  not  she  thou  lovedst  ?  "    But  Buddh  said^ 

II 


i62  Zbc  %iQht  of  asia. 

*'  For  that  sweet  sake  of  her  thou  playest  thus 
Fair  and  false  Shadow  !  is  thy  playing  vain  ; 
I  curse  thee  not  who  wear'st  a  form  so  dear, 
Yet  as  thou  art  so  are  all  earthly  shows. 
Melt  to  thy  void  again  !  "     Thereat  a  cry 
Thrilled  through  the  grove,  and  all  that  comely 

rout 
Faded  with  flickering  wafts  of  flame,  and  trail 
Of  vaporous  robes. 

Next  under  darkening  skies 
And  noise  of  rising  storm  came  fiercer  Sins, 
The  rearmost  of  the  Ten  ;  Patigha — Hate — 
With  serpents  coiled  about  her  waist,  which 

suck 
Poisonous  milk  from  both  her  hanging  dugs, 
And  with  her  curses  mix  their  angry  hiss. 
Little  wrought  she  upon  that  Holy  One 
Who  with  his  calm  eyes  dumbed  her  bitter  lips 
And  made  her  black  snakes  writhe  to  hide 

their  fangs. 
Then  followed  Ruparaga — Lust  of  days — 
That  sensual  Sin  which  out  of  greed  for  life 
Forgets  to  live  ;  and  next  him  Lust  of  Fame, 
Nobler  Aruparaga,  she  whose  spell 
Beguiles  the  wise,  mother  of  daring  deeds, 
Battles  and  toils.     And  haughty  Mano  came. 
The  Fiend  of  Pride  ;  and  smooth  Self-Right- 
eousness, 


JBooft  tbe  ^birD,  163 

Uddhachcha  ;  and — with  many  a  hideous  band 
Of  vile  and  formless  things,  which  crept  and 

flapped 
Toad-like  and  bat-like — Ignorance,  the  Dam 
Of  Fear  and  Wrong,  Avidya,  hideous  hag, 
Whose   footsteps    left    the    midnight    darker, 

while 
The  rooted   mountains  shook,  the   wild  winds 

howled. 
The  broken   clouds   shed  from  their  caverns 

streams 
Of  levin-lighted  rain  ;  stars  shot  from  heaven, 
The  solid  earth  shuddered  as  if  one  laid 
Flame  to   her  gaping  wounds  ;  the   torn  black 

air 
Was  full  of  whistling  wings,  of  screams  and 

yells. 
Of  evil  faces  peering,  of  vast  fronts 
Terrible  and  majestic.  Lords  of  Hell 
Who  from  a  thousand  Limbos  led  their  troops 
To  tempt  the  Master. 

But  Buddh  heeded  not, 
Sitting  serene,  with  perfect  virtue  walled 
As  is  a  stronghold  by  its  gates  and  ramps ; 
Also  the  Sacred  Tree — the  Bodhi-tree — 
Amid  that  tumult  stirred  not,  but  each  leaf 
Glistened  as  still  as  when  on  moonlit  eves 


164  ^bc  Xigbt  of  Bsla* 

No  zephyr  spills  the  glittering  gems  of  dew ; 
For  all  this  clamor  raged  outside  the  shade 
Spread  by  those  cloistered  stems  : 

In  the  third  watch, 
The  earth  being  still,  the  helHsh  legions  fled, 
A  soft  air  breathing  from  the  sinking  moon. 
Our  Lord  attained  Savima-safiibiiddh ;  he  saw 
By  light  which  shines  beyond  our  mortal  ken 
The  line  of  all  his  lives  in  all  the  worlds. 
Far  back  and  farther  back  and  farthest  yet, 
Five  hundred  lives  and  fifty.     Even  as  one. 
At  rest  upon  a  mountain-summit,  marks 
His  path  wind  up  by  precipice  and  crag. 
Past    thick-set    woods    shrunk   to     a   patch  ; 

through  bogs 
Glittering  false-green  ;  down  hollows  where  he 

toiled 
Breathless  ;  on  dizzy  ridges  where  his  feet 
Had   well-nigh    slipped ;    beyond    the    sunny 

lawns, 
The  cataract  and  the  cavern  and  the  pool. 
Backward  to    those   dim  flats    wherefrom   he 

sprang 
To  reach  the  blue  ;  thus  Buddha  did  behold 
Life's  upward  steps  long-linked,  from  levels  low 
Where  breath  is  base,  to   higher  slopes  and 

higher 


J6oo?^  tbe  Siitb.  165 

Whereon  the  ten  great  Virtues  wait  to  lead 
The  climber  skyward.     Also,  Buddha  saw 
How  new  life  reaps  what  the  old  life  did  sow  : 
How  where  its  march  breaks  off  its  march  be- 
gins; 
Holding  the  gain  and  answering  for  the  loss  ; 
And  how  in  each  life  good  begets  more  good, 
Evil  fresh  evil ;  Death  but  casting  up 
Debit  or  credit,  whereupon  th'  account 
In  merits  or  demerits  stamps  itself 
By  sure  arithmic — where  no  tittle  drops — 
Certain  and  just,  on  some  new-springing  life  ; 
Wherein  are  packed  and  scored  past  thoughts 

and  deeds 
Strivings  and  triumphs,  memories  and  marks 
Of  lives  foregone  : 


And  in  the  middle  watch 
Our  Lord  attained  Ahhidjna — insight  vast 
Ranging  beyond  this    sphere    to    spheres    un- 
named, 
System  on  system,  countless  worlds  and  suns 
Moving  in  splendid  measures,  band  by  band 
Linked  in  division,  one  yet  separate, 
The  silver  islands  of  a  sapphire  sea 
Shoreless,  unfathomed,  undiminished,  stirred 


i66  XTbe  Xigbt  of  Bsia, 

With  waves   which   roll    in   restless   tides  of 

change. 
He  saw  those  Lords  of  Light  who  hold  their 

worlds 
By  bonds  invisible,  how  they  themselves 
Circle  obedient  round  mightier  orbs 
Which  serve  profounder  splendors,  star  to  star 
Flashing  the  ceaseless  radiance  of  life 
From  centres  ever  shifting  unto  cirques 
Knowing  no  uttermost.     These  he  beheld 
With  unsealed  vision,  and  of  all  those  worlds 
Cycle  on  epicycle,  all  their  tale 
Of  Kalpas,  Mahakalpas — terms  of  time 
Which  no  man  grasps,  yea,  though  he  knew  to 

count 
The  drops  in  Gunga  from  her  springs  to  the 

sea, 
Measureless  unto  speech — whereby  these  wax 
And    wane  ;  whereby  each    of   this    heavenly 

host  * 

Fulfils  its  shining  life  and  darkling  dies. 
Sakwal   by    Sakwal,    depths    and    heights  he 

passed 
Transported  through  the  blue  infinitudes. 
Marking — behind  all  modes,  above  all  spheres, 
Beyond  the  burning  impulse  of  each  orb — 
That  fixed  decree  at  silent  work  which  wills 


JBooft  tbe  Siitb,  167 

Evolve  the  dark  to  light,  the  dead  to  life, 

To  fulness  void,  to  form  the  yet  unformed, 

Good  unto  better,  better  unto  best, 

By  wordless  edict ;  having  none  to  bid. 

None  to  forbid  ;  for  this  is  past  all  gods 

Immutable,  unspeakable,  supreme, 

A  Power  which  builds,  unbuilds,   and  builds 

again, 
Ruhng  all  things  accordant  to  the  rule 
Of  virtue,  which  is  beauty,  truth,  and  use. 
So  that  all  things  do  well  which  serve  the 

Power, 
And   ill    which   hinder;  nay,  the  worm   does 

well 
Obedient  to  its  kind  ;  the  hawk  does  well 
Which  carries  bleeding  quarries  to  its  young ; 
The  dewdrop  and  the  star  shine  sisterly. 
Globing  together  in  the  common  work ; 
And  man  who  lives  to  die,  dies  to  live  well 
So  if  he  guide  his  ways  by  blamelessness    . 
And  earnest  will  to  hinder  not  but  help 
All  things  both  great  and  small  which  suffer 

life. 
These  did  our  Lord  see  in  the  middle  watch. 

But  when  the  fourth  watch  came  the  secret 
came 


i68  ^be  XlQbt  of  B6ia. 

Of  Sorrow,  which  with  evil  mars  the  law, 
As  damp  and  dross  hold  back  the  goldsmith's 

fire. 
Then  was  the  Dukha-satya  opened  him 
First  of  the  "  Noble  Truths  ;  "  how  Sorrow  is 
Shadow  to  life,  moving  where  life  doth  move ; 
Not  to  be  laid  aside  until  one  lays  ♦ 

Living  aside,  with  all  its  changing  states. 
Birth,   growth,  decay,   love,  hatred,  pleasure, 

pain. 
Being  and  doing.     How  that  none  strips  off 
These  sad  delights  and  pleasant  griefs  who 

lacks 
Knowledge  to  know  them  snares  ;  but  he  who 

knows 
Avidya — Delusion — sets  those  snares, 
Loves  life  no  longer  but  ensues  escape. 
The  eyes  of  such  a  one  are  wide,  he  sees 
Delusion  breeds  Sankhara,  Tendency 
Perverse  :  Tendency  Energy — Vidnnan — 
Whereby  comes  Namarupa,  local  form 
And  name  and  bodiment,  bringing  the  man 
With  senses  naked  to  the  sensible, 
A  helpless  mirror  of  all  shows  which  pass 
Across  his  heart ;  and  so  Vedana  grows — 
*  Sense-life  ' — false  in  its  gladness,  fell  in  sad 

ness. 


:fiSooft  tbe  Siitb.  169 

But  sad  or  glad,  the  ^Mother  of  Desire, 
Trishna,   that  thirst   which   makes  the   living 

drink 
Deeper  and  deeper  of  the  false  salt  waves 
Whereon    they     float,     pleasures,    ambitions, 

wealth. 
Praise,  fame,  or  domination,  conquest,  love ; 
Rich  meats  and  robes,  and  fair  abodes,  and 

pride 
Of  ancient  lines,  and  lust  of  days,  and  strife 
To  live,  and  sins  that  flow  from   strife,   some 

sweet. 
Some   bitter.     Thus    Life's    thirst    quenches 

itself 
With  draughts  which  double  thirst,  but  who  is 

wise 
Tears  from  his   soul  this  Trishna,  feeds  his 

sense 
No  longer  on  false  shows,  files  his  firm  mind 
To  seek  not,   strive  not,   wrong  not ;  bearing 

meek 
All  ills  which  flow  from    foregone  wrongful- 
ness, 
And  so  constraining  passions  that  they  die 
Famished  ;  till  all  the  sum  of  ended  life — 
The  Karma — all  that  total  of  a  soul 
Which  is  the  things  it  did,  the  thoughts  it  had, 


170  tTbe  Xlgbt  of  Bsfa. 

The    *  Self '  it  wove — with  woof   of  viewless 

time, 
Crossed  on  the  warp  invisible  of  acts — 
The  outcome  of  him  on  the  Universe, 
Grows  pure  and  sinless  ;  either  never  more 
Needing  to  find  a  body  and  a  place, 
Or  so  informing  what  fresh  frame  it  takes 
In  new  existence  that  the  new  toils  prove 
Lighter  and  lighter  not  to  be  at  all. 
Thus  "  finishing  the  Path  ;  "  free  from  Earth's 

cheats  ; 
Released  from  all  the  skandhas  of  the  flesh ; 
Broken  from  ties — from  Upadanas — saved 
From   whirling   on   the   wheel ;    aroused  and 

sane 
As  is  a  man  wakened  from  hateful  dreams. 
Until — greater  than   Kings,  than  Gods  more 

glad  !— 
The    aching    craze    to    live    ends,    and    life 

glides — 
Lifeless — to  nameless  quiet,  nameless  joy, 
Blessed  Nirvana — sinless,  stirless  rest — 
That  change  which  never  changes  ! 

Lo  !  the  Dawn 
Sprang   with    Buddh's   Victory  !    lo !    in   the 
East 


JBooft  tbe  Sixtb.  171 

Flamed   the    first    fires    of    beauteous     day, 

poured  forth 
Through  fleeting  folds  of  Night's  black  drap- 
ery. 
High  in  the  widening  blue  the  herald-star 
Faded  to  paler  silver  as  there  shot 
Brighter  and  brightest  bars  of  rosy  gleam 
Across  the  grey.     Far  off  the  shadowy  hills 
Saw   the   great    Sun,    before   the   world   was 

'ware, 
And  donned  their  crowns  of  crimson  ;  flower 

by  flower 
Felt  the  warm  breath  of  Morn  and  'gan  un- 
fold 
Their  tender  lids.     Over  the  spangled  grass 
Swept  the  swift  footsteps  of  the  lovely  Light, 
Turning  the  tears  of  Night  to  joyous  gems. 
Decking  the  earth  with  radiance,  'broidering 
The  sinking  storm-clouds  with  a  golden  fringe. 
Gilding  the    feathers    of    the    palms,    which 

waved 
Glad  salutation  ;  darting  beams  of  gold 
Into  the  glades ;  touching  with  magic  wand 
The  stream  to  rippled  ruby ;  in  the  brake 
Finding  the  mild  eyes  of  the  antelopes 
And  saying  "  It  isMay  ;  "  in  nested  sleep 
Touching  the  small  heads  under  many  a  wing 


172  ^hc  %\Qbt  of  Bsia. 

And  whispering,    "  Children,  praise   the  light 

of  day!" 
Whereat  there  piped  anthems  of  all  the  birds, 
The  Koil's  fluted  song,  the  Bulbul's  hymn, 
The    "  morning,    morning "   of    the   painted 

thrush, 
The  twitter  of  the  sunbirds  starting  forth 
To  find  the  honey  ere  the  bees  be  out, 
The  grey  crow's  caw,  the  parrot's  scream,  the 

strokes 
Of  the  green  hammersmith,  the  myna's  chirp, 
The  never  finished  love-talk  of  the  doves  : 
Yea !  and  so  holy  was  the  influence 
Of  that  high  Dawn  which  came  with  victory 
That,  far   and  near,   in  homes  of  men  there 

spread 
An    unknown    peace.      The    slayer    hid   his 

knife  ; 
The  robber  laid  his  plunder  back ;  the  shroff 
Counted'  full  tale  of  coins  ;  all  evil  hearts 
Grew  gentle,  kind  hearts  gentler,  as  the  balm 
Of  that  divinest  Daybreak  lightened  Earth. 
Kings  at  fierce  war  called  truce ;  the  sick  man 

leaped 
Laughing  from  beds  of  pain  ;  the  dying  smiled 
As  though  they  knew  that  happy  Morn  was 

sprung 


JBooft  tbe  Siitb.  173 

From  fountains  farther  than  the  utmost  East ; 
And  o'er  the  heart  of  sad  Yasodhara, 
Sitting  forlorn  at  Prince  Siddartha's  bed, 
Came  sudden  bliss,  as  if  love  should  not  fail 
Nor  such  vast  sorrow  miss  to  end  in  joy. 
So   glad   the  World  was — though  it  wist  not 

why — 
That   over   desolate    wastes    went    swooning 

songs 
Of   mirth,   the   voice   of   bodiless    Prets  and 

Bhuts 
Foreseeing  Buddh ;  and  Devas  in  the  air 
Cried    "  It   is    finished,    finished  ! "    and    the 

priests 
Stood    with    the   wandering    people    in    the 

streets 
Watching   those    golden    splendors   flood  the 

sky 
And  saying  "  There  hath  happed  some  mighty 

thing." 
Also  in  Ran  and  Jungle  grew  that  day 
Friendship     amongst    the    creatures ;  spotted 

deer 
Browsed   fearless    where  the   tigress  fed  her 

cubs. 
And    cheetahs   lapped   the    pool   beside   the 

bucks : 


174  ^bc  Xi^bt  ot  Bsla. 

Under   the   eagle's    rocks    the   brown    hares 

scoured 
While   his   fierce   beak   but  preened  an  idle 

wing  ; 
The  snake  sunned  all  his  jewels  in  the  beam 
With  deadly  fangs  in  sheath  •,  the  shrike  let 

pass 
The  nestling-finch ;  the  emerald  halcyons 
Sate    dreaming   while    the   fishes   played    be- 
neath, 
Nor  hawked  the  merops,  though  the  butter- 
flies— 
Crimson  and  blue  and  amber — flitted  thick 
Around  his  perch ;  the  Spirit  of  our  Lord 
Lay  potent  upon  man  and  bird  and  beast, 
Even  while  he  mused  under  that  Bodhi-tree 
Glorified  with  the  Conquest  gained  for  all 
And  lightened  by  a  Light  greater  than  Day's. 

Then  he  arose — radiant,  rejoicing,  strong — 
Beneath  the  Tree,  and  lifting  high  his  voice 
Spake    this,    in   hearing   of    all    Times    and 
Worlds  :— 

A  nekaj'dtisangsdraiig 
Sandhdwissajig  anihhisang 
Gahakdrakajigawesanto 
Dukkhdjdiipunappunang 


36oo}{  tbe  Siitb.  175 

GahakarakadiihSsi  ; 
Piaiageliang  fiakdhasi  ; 
Sahhdtephd  sukhdbhaggd, 
Gahakuta7igwisang  khitang  ; 
Wisangklidragdtang  cliittang  ; 
Ja  n  hdna  ngkhaya  ??t  ajh  agd. 

Many  a  House  of  Life 
Hath   held   me — seeking    ever    him    whq 

WROUGHT 

These     prisons    of    the    senses,    sorrow- 
fraught  ; 
Sore  was  my  ceaseless  strife  ! 

But  now, 
Thou  Builder  of  this  Tabernacle — Thou  ! 
I    KNOW  Thee  !     Never  shalt  thou  buili> 
again 
These  walls  of  pain. 
Nor  raise  the  roof-tree  of  deceits,  nor 
lay 
Fresh  rafters  on  the  clay  ; 
Broken  thy  house  is,  and  the  ridge-pole, 

SPLIT  ! 

Delusion  fashioned  it  ! 
Safe  pass   I   thence — deliverance   to    ob- 
tain. 


176  ^bc  Xigbt  ot  Bsia. 


4 


Sorrowful  dwelt  the  King  Suddhodana 

All  those  long  years  among  the  Sakya  Lords 

Lacking  the  speech  and  presence  of  his  Son ; 

Sorrowful  sate  the  sweet  Yasodhara 

-All  those  long  years,  knowing  no  joy  of  life, 

Widowed  of  him  her  living  Liege  and  Prince 

And  ever,  on  the  news  of  some  recluse 

Seen  far  away  by  pasturing  camel-men 

Or  traders  threading  devious  paths  for  gain, 

-Messengers   from   the    King   had   gone    and 

come 
Bringing  account  of  many  a  holy  sage 
Lonely  and  lost  to  home ;  but  nought  of  him 
The  crown  of  white  Kapilavastu's  line. 
The  glory  of  her  monarch  and  his  hope. 
The  heart's  content  of  sweet  Yasodhara, 
Par-wandered     now,    forgetful,    changed,    or 

dead. 

But  on  a  day  in  the  Wasanta-time, 
When   silver   sprays   swing    on    the    mango 
trees 


:©ooft  tbe  Seventh* 


177 


And  all  the  earth  is  clad  with  garb  of  spring, 
The    Princess    sate    by   that    bright    garden- 
stream 
Whose  gliding  glass,  bordered  with  lotus-cups, 
Mirrored  so  often  in  the  bliss  gone  by 
Their  clinging  hands  and   meeting   lips.     Her 

lids 
Were  wan  with  tears,  her  tender   cheeks  had 

thinned  ; 
Her  lips'  delicious   curves    were    drawn  with 

grief  ; 
The  lustrous  glory  of  her  hair  was  hid — 
Close  bound  as  widows  use  ;  no  ornament 
She  wore,  nor  any  jewel   clasped  the  cloth — 
Coarse,   and   of  mourning-white — crossed  on 

her  breast 
Slow   moved  and  painfully  those  small  fine 

feet 
Which  had  the  roe's  gait  and  the  rose-leaf's 

fall 
In  old  years  at  the  loving  voice  of  him. 
Her  eyes,  those  lamps   of  love, — which  were 

as  if 
Sunlight  should  shine  from  out  the   deepest 

dark. 
Illumining    Night's     peace     with    Daytime^s 

glow — 
12 


178  ^be  Xiflbt  of  Bsia, 

Unlighted  now,  and  roving  aimlessly, 

Scarce  marked  the  clustering  signs  of  coming 

Spring 
So  the  silk  lashes  drooped  over  their  orbs. 
In  one  hand  was  a  girdle  thick  with  pearls, 
Siddartha's — treasured   since    that    night   he 

fled— 
(Ah,  bitter  Night !  mother  of  weeping  days  ! 
When  was  fond  Love  so  pitiless  to  love 
Save  that  this  scorned  to  limit  love  by  life  ?) 
The  other  led  her  little  son,  a  boy 
Divinely  fair  the  pledge  Siddartha  left — 
Named   Rahula — now  seven  years   old,  who 

tripped 
Gladsome  beside  his  mother,  light  of  heart 
To   see  the  spring-blooms  burgeon   o'er  the 

world. 

So  while  they  lingered  by  the  lotus-pools 
And,  lightly  laughing,  Rahula  flung  rice 
To  feed  the  blue  and  purple  fish ;  and  she 
With    sad    eyes    watched    the    swiftly-flying 

cranes, 
Sighing,    "  Oh !    creatures   of   the    wandering 

wing, 
If  ye  shall  light  where  my  dear  Lord  is  hid, 
Say  that  Yasodhara  lives  nigh  to  death 


:©oo?i  tbe  Seventb.  179 

For   one    word    of   his  mouth,   one    touch    of 

him !  "— 
So,  as   they  played  and  sighed — mother  and 

child- 
Came   some   among  the  damsels  of  the  Court 
Saying,  "  Great  Princess  !  there  have  entered 

in 
At  the  south  gate  merchants  of  Hastinpur 
Tripusha  called  and  Bhalluk,  men  of  worth, 
Long  travelled  from  the  loud  sea's  edge,  who 

bring 
Marvellous  lovely  webs  pictured  with  gold, 
Waved  blades  of   gilded   steel,  wrought  bowls 

in  brass, 
Cut    ivories,     spice,    simples,    and    unknown 

birds, 
Treasures  of  far-off  peoples ;  but  they  bring 
That  which  doth  beggar  these,  for  He  is  seen  ! 
Thy  Lord, — our  Lord, — the   hope  of  all  the 

land — 
Siddartha  !  they  have  seen  him  face  to  face, 
Yea,  and  have  w^orshipped  him  with  knees  and 

brows, 
And  offered  offerings ;  for  he  is  become 
All  which  was  shown,  a  teacher  of  the  wise, 
World-honored,  holy,  wonderful ;  a  Buddh 
Who  doth  deliver  men  and  save  all  flesh 


i8o  XLbc  XlQbt  of  Bsla. 

By  sweetest  speech  and  pity  vast  as  Heaven : 
And,  lo  !  he  journeyeth  hither  these  do  say." 

Then — while  the  glad  blood  bounded  in  her 

veins 
As    Gunga   leaps    when    first    the    mountain 

snows 
Melt  at  her  springs — uprose  Yasodhara 
And   clapped  her  palms,   and   laughed,  with 

brimming  tears 
Beading  her  lashes.     "  Oh  !   call  quick,"  she 

cried: 
"  These  merchants    to  my  purdah,  for  mine 

ears 
Thirst    like    parched    throats    to    drink    their 

blessed  news. 
Go  bring  them  in, — but  if  their  tale  be  true, 
Say  I  will  fill  their  girdles  with  much  gold, 
With  gems  that   Kings   shall   envy :  come  ye 

too. 
My  girls,  for  ye  shall  have  guerdon  of  this 
If  there  be  gifts  to  speak  my  grateful  heart." 

So  went  those  merchants  to  the  Pleasure- 
House, 
Full  softly  pacing  through  its  golden  ways 
With  naked  feet,  amid  the  peering  maids, 


JSooft  tbe  Sevcntb.  i8i 

Much  wondering  at  the  glories  of  the  Court. 
Whom,  when  they  came  without  the  purdah's 

folds, 
A  voice,  tender  and  eager,  filled  and  charmed 
With  trembling  music,  saying,  "  Ye  are  come 
From    far,    fair    Sirs  !    and   ye   have  seen  my 

Lord — 
Yea,  worshipped — for  he  is  become  a  Buddh, 
World-honored,  holy,  and  delivers  men. 
And  journeyeth  hither.      Speak!,  for,   if  this 

be, 
Friends  are   ye  of   my  House,  welcome  and 

dear." 

Then   answer   made   Tripusha,  "We   have 

seen 
That  sacred  Master,  Princess !  we  have  bowed. 
Before  his  feet ;  for  who  was  lost  a  Prince 
Is  found  a  greater  than  the  King  of  kings. 
Under  the  Bodhi  tree  by  Phalgu's  bank 
That  which  shall  save  the  world  hath  late  been 

wrought 
By  him — the  Friend  of  all,  the  Prince  of  all — 
Thine   most.    High  Lady  !   from  whose  tears 

men  win 
The  comfort  of  this  Word  the  Master  speaks. 
Lo !  he  is  well,  as  one  beyond  all  ills, 


i82  ^be  Xlgbt  of  Bsia. 

Uplifted  as  a  god  from  earthly  woes, 
Shining  with  risen  Truth,  golden  and  clear. 
Moreover  as  he  entereth  town  by  town. 
Preaching   those   noble    ways    which   lead  to 

peace, 
The  hearts  of  men  follow  his  path  as  leaves 
Troop  to  wind  or  sheep  draw  after  one 
Who  knows  the  pastures.     We  ourselves  have 

heard 
By  Gay  a  in  the  green  Tchirnika  grove 
Those  wondrous  lips  and  done  them  reverence : 
He  cometh  hither  ere  the  first  rains  fall." 

Thus  spake  he,  and  Yasodhara,  for  joy, 
Scarce  mastered  breath  to  answer,  "  Be  it  well 
Now  and  at  all  times  with  ye,  worthy  friends ! 
Who  bring  good  tidings  ;  but  of  this  great  thing 
Wist  ye  how  it  befell }  " 

Then  Bhalluk  told 
Such  as  the  people  of  the  valleys  knew 
Of  that  dread  night  of  conflict,  w^hen  the  air 
Darkened  with  fiendish  shadows,  and  the  earth 
Quaked,  and  the  waters  swelled  with  Mara's 

wrath. 
Also  how  gloriously  that  morning  broke 
Radiant  with  rising  hopes  for  man,  and  how 
The  Lord  was  found  rejoicing  'neath  his  Tree. 


asooft  tbe  Scventb  183 

But  many  days  the  burden  of  release — 
To  be  escaped  beyond  all  storms  of  doubt, 
Safe  on  Truth's  shore — lay,  spake  he,  on  that 

heart 
A   golden   load  ;  for  how  shall  men — Buddh. 

mused — 
Who  love  their  sins  and  cleave  to  cheats  of 

sense, 
And  drink  of  error  from  a  thousand  springs — 
Having  no  mind  to  see,  nor  strength  to  break 
The    fleshly    snare    which    binds    them— how 

should  such 
Receive  the  Twelve  Nidanas  and  the  Law 
Redeeming  all,  yet  strange  to  profit  by. 
As  the  caged  bird  oft  shuns  its  opened  door  ? 
So  had  we  missed  the  helpful  victory 
If,  in  this  earth  without  a  refuge,  Buddh 
Winning  the  way,  had  deemed  it  all  too  hard 
For  mortal   feet,  and  passed,  none    following 

him. 
Yet  pondered  the  compassion  of  our  Lord, 
But  in  that  hour  there  range  a  voice  as  sharp 
As  cry  of  travail,  so  as  if  the  earth 
Moaned  in  birth-throe  "  Nasyami  aham  bhii 
Nasyati  Ibka  I''  Surely  I  am  lost, 
I  AND  MY  CREATURES  :  then  a  pause,  and  next 
A  pleading  sigh  borne  on  the  western  wind, 


1 84  ^bc  Xigbt  of  Bsla, 

"  Sruyatani    d/iar?jia  Bhagzvat !  "       Oh,    Su- 
preme ! 
Let  thy  great  Law  be  uttered  !     Where- 
upon 
The  Master  cast  his  vision  forth  on  flesh, 
Saw  who   should  hear  and  who   must  wait  to 

hear, 
As  the  keen  Sun  gilding  the  lotus-lakes 
Seeth  which  buds  will  open  to  his  beams 
And  which  are  not  yet  risen  from  their  roots ; 
Then  spake,  divinely  smiling,  "  Yea  !  I  preach  ! 
Whoso  will  listen  let  him  learn  the  Law." 

Afterwards  passed  he,  said  they,  by  the  hills 
Unto  Benares,  where  he  taught  the  Five, 
Showing  how  birth  and  death  should  be  de- 
stroyed, 
And  how  man  hath  no  fate  except  past  deeds, 
No  Hell  but  what  he  makes,  no  Heaven  too 
high  [dued. 

For  those  to  reach  whose  passions  sleep  sub- 
This  was  the  fifteenth  day  of  Vaishya 
Mid-afternoon  and  that  night  was  full  moon. 

But,  of  the  Rishis,  first  Kaundinya 
Owned  the  Four  Truths  and  entered  on  the 
Paths : 


JBoofi  tbc  Seventb.  185 

And  after  him  Bhadraka,  Asvajit, 

Basava,  ]\Iahanama  ;   also  there 

Within  the  Deer-park,  at  the  feet  of  Buddh, 

Yasad  the  Prince  with  nobles  fifty-four 

Hearing  the  blessed  word  our  Master  spake 

Worshipped  and   followed ;    for  there    sprang 

up  peace 
And  knowledge  of  a  new  time  come  for  men 
In  all  who  heard,  as  spring  the  flowers  and 

grass 
When  water  sparkles  through  a  sandy  plain. 

These  sixty — said  they — did  our  Lord  send 

forth 
Made  perfect  in  restraint  and  passion  free. 
To  teach  the  Way;    but   the  World-honored 

turned 
South  from  the  Deer-park  and  Isipatan 
To  Yashti  and  King  Bimbasara's  realm, 
Where    many    days    he    taught ;     and    after 

these 
King  Bimbasara  and  his  folk  believed, 
Learning  the  law  of  love  and  ordered  life. 
Also  he  gave  the  Master,  of  free  gift, — 
Pouring  forth  water  on  the  hands  of  Buddh— 
The  Bamboo-Garden,  named  Weluvana, 


i86  ^bc  Xfgbt  ot  2lsia. 

Wherein    are   streams   and  caves    and  lovely 

glades  ; 
And  the  King  set  a  stone  there,  carved   with 

this  :— 

Yi  dhari?ia  hetuppabhawd 

Yesan  hettm  Tathdgatb  ; 
Aha  yesafi  cha  yo  ttirodhb 
Ewan  wadi  Maha  saiJiano         ^ 

**  What  life's  course  and  cause  sustain 
These  Tathagato  made  plain  ; 
What  delivers  from  life's  woe 
That  our  Lord  hath  made  us  know." 

And,  in  that  Garden — said  they — there  was 

held 
A  high  Assembly,  where  the  Teacher  spake 
Wisdom  and  power,  winning  all  souls  which 

heard, 
So  that  nine  hundred  took  the  yellow  robe — 
Such  as  the  Master  wears, — and  spread  his 

Law; 
And  this  the  gatha  was  wherewith  he  closed  :—« 

Sabba  pdpassa  akaranaii ; 
Kiisalassa  upassampadd  : 
Sa  chitta  pariyodapana?i  ; 
Etan  Budhdnusdsaiian. 


JSooft  tbc  Seventb.  187 

"  Evil  swells  the  debts  to  pay, 
Good  delivers  and  acquits  ; 
Shun  evil,  follow  good  ;   hold  sway 
Over  thyself.     This  is  the  Way." 


Whom,  when  they  ended,  speaking  so  of  him, 

With  gifts,  and  thanks  which  made  the  jewels 
dull, 

The  Princess  recompensed.  "  But  by  what 
road 

Wendeth  my  Lord  ? "  she  asked  :  the  mer- 
chants said, 

"  Yojans  threescore  stretch  from  the  city-walls 
To  Rajagriha,  whence  the  easy  path 
Passeth  by  Sona  hither  and  the  hills. 
Our  oxen,  treading  eight  slow  koss  a  day, 
Came  in  one  moon." 

Then  the  King  hearing  word, 
Sent    nobles     of    the     Court — well-mounted 

lords — 
Nine  separate  messengers,  each  embassy 
Bidden  to  say,  "  The  King  Suddhodana — 
Nearer  the  pyre  by  seven  long  years  of  lack. 
Wherethrough  he  hath  not  ceased  to  seek  for 

thee — 


i88  ^be  XiQbt  of  Bsia. 

Prays  of  his  son  to  come  unto  his  own, 

The  Throne  and  people  of  this  longing  Realm, 

JLest  he  shall  die  and  see  thy  face  no  more." 

Also  nine  horsemen  sent  Yasodhara 

Bidden  to  say,  "  The  Princess  of  thy  House — 

Rahula's  mother — craves  to  see  thy  face 

As  the  night-blowing   moon-flower's   swelling 

heart 
Pines  for  the  moon,  as  pale  asoka-buds 
Wait  for  a  woman's  foot :  if  thou  hast  found 
More  than  was  lost,  she  prays  her  part  in  this, 
Rahula's  part,  but  most  of  all  thyself." 
So  sped  the  Sakya  Lords,  but  it  befell 
That  each  one,  with  the  message  in  his  mouth 
Entered  the  Bamboo-Garden  in  that  hour 
AVhen  Buddha  taught  his  Law  ;  and — hearing 

— each 
Porgot  to   speak,  lost   thought  of   King   and 

quest, 
Of  the  sad  Princess  even  ;  only  gazed 
Eye-rapt  upon  the  Master  ;  only  hung 
Heart-caught  upon  the  speech,  compassionate, 
Commanding,  perfect,  pure,  enlightening  all, 
Poured  from  those  sacred  lips.     Look  !  like  a 

bee 
Winged  for   the   hive,  who   sees  the   mogras 

spread 


:SBoo\{  the  Seventb*  189 

And  scents  their  utter  sweetness  on  the  air, 
If  he  be  honey- tilled,  it  matters  not ; 
If  night  be  nigh,  or  rain,  he  will  not  heed; 
Needs  must  he  light  on  those  delicious  blooms 
And  drain  their  nectar ;  so  these  messengers 
One  with  another,*  hearing  Buddha's  words, 
Let  go  the  purpose  of  their  speed,  and  mixed, 
Heedless  of  all,  amid  the  Master's  train. 
Wherefore  the  King  bade  that  Udayi  go — 
Chiefest  in  all  the  Court,  and  faithfullest, 
Siddartha's  playmate  in  the  happier  days — 
Who,  as  he  drew  anear  the  garden,  plucked 
Blown  tufts  of  tree-wool  from  the  grove  and 

sealed 
The  entrance  of  his  hearing ;  thus  he  came 
Safe  through  the  lofty  peril  of  the  place 
And  told  the  message  of  the  King,  and  hers. 

Then  meekly  bowed  his  head  and  spake  our 
Lord 
Before  the  people,  "  Surely  I  shall  go ! 
It  is  my  duty  as  it  was  my  will ; 
Let  no  man  miss  to  render  reverence 
To  those   who  lend   him  life,  whereby  come 

means 
To  live  and  die  no  more,  but  safe  attain 
Blissful  Nirvana,  if  ye  keep  the  Law, 


190  ^bc  Xlgbt  ot  Bsia. 

Purging    past    wrongs    and    adding    nought 

thereto, 
Complete  in  love  and  lovely  charities. 
Let  the  King  know  and  let  the  Princess  hear 
I  take  the  way  forthwith."     This  told,  the  folk 
Of  white  Kapilavastu  and  its  fields 
Made  ready  for  the  entrance  of  their  Prince. 
At  the  south  gate  a  bright  pavilion  rose 
With  flower- wreathed  pillars  and  the  walls  of 

silk 
Wrought  on  their  red  and  green  with  woven 

gold. 
Also  the  roads  were  laid  wath  scented  boughs 
Of  neem  and  mango,  and  full  mussuks  shed 
Sandal  and  jasmine  on  the  dust,  and  flags 
Fluttered ;  and  on   the  day   when  he  should 

come 
It  was  ordained  how  many  elephants — 
With    silver   howdahs    and   their  tusks   gold- 
tipped — 
Should  wait  beyond  the  ford,  and  where  the 

drums 
Should  boom  "  Siddartha  cometh  !  "  where  the 

lords 
Should  light  and  worship,  and  the  dancing-girls 
Where   they  should   strew  their  flowers   with 

dance  and  song, 


JBooft  tbe  Scventb.  191 

So  that  the  steed  he  rode  might  tramp  knee- 
deep 

In  rose  and  balsam,  and  the  ways  be  fair  ; 

While  the  town  rang  with  music  and  high  joy. 

This  was  ordained,  and  all  men's  ears  were 
pricked 

Dawn  after  dawn  to  catch  the  first  drum's 
beat 

Announcing,  "  Now  he  cometh  !  " 

But  it  fell- 
Eager  to  be  before — Yasodhara 
Rode  in  her  litter  to  the  city-walls 
Where  soared  the  bright  pavilion.     All  around 
A     beauteous      garden     smiled  —  Nigrodha 

named — 
Shaded  with  bel-trees  and  the  green-plumed 

dates, 
New-trimmed  and  gay  with  winding  walks  and 

banks 
Of  fruits  and  flowers  ;  for  the  southern  road 
Skirted    its    lawns,    on    this    hand    leaf    and 

bloom, 
On   that    the   suburb-huts   where   base-boms 

dwelt 
Outside  the  gates,  a  patient  folk  and  poor, 
Whose    touch   for    Kshatriya   and    priest   of 

Brahm 


192  ^be  XiQbt  ot  Bsia. 

Were  sore  defilement.     Yet  those,  too,  were 

quick 
With  expectation,  rising  ere  the  dawn 
To  peer  along  the  road,  to  climb  the  trees 
At  far-off  trumpet  of  some  elephant. 
Or  stir  of  temple-drum  ;  and  when  none  came, 
Busied  with  lowly  chares  to  please  the  Prince ; 
Sweeping  their  door-stones,  setting  forth  their 

flags, 
Stringing  the  fluted  fig-leaves  into  chains, 
New  furbishing  the  Lingam,  decking  new 
Yesterday's  faded  arch  of  boughs,  but  aye 
Questioning  wayfarers  if  any  noise 
Be  on  the  road  of  great  Siddartha.     These 
The  Princess  marked  with  lovely  languid  eyes. 
Watching,  as  they,  the  southward  plain,  and 

bent 
Like  them  to  listen  if  the  passers  gave 
News  of  the  path.     So  fell  it  she  beheld 
One   slow  approaching   with   his   head   close 

shorn, 
A  yellow  cloth  over  his  shoulder  cast. 
Girt  as  the  hermits  are,  and  in  his  hand 
An  earthen  bowl,  shaped  melonwise,  the  which 
Meekly  at  each  hut-door  he  held  a  space, 
Taking  the  granted  dole  with  gentle  thanks 
And  all  as  gently  passing  where  none  gave. 


:©oo?i  tbe  Seventh*  193 

Two  followed  him  wearing  the  yellow  robe, 
But  he  who  bore  the  bowl  so  lordly  seemed, 
So  reverend,  and  with  such  a  passage  moved, 
With  so  commanding  presence  filled  the  air, 
With  such  sweet  eyes  of  holiness  smote  all, 
That,  as  they   reached   him    alms  the   givers 

gazed 
Awestruck  upon  his  face,  and  some  bent  down 
In  worship,  and  some  ran  to  fetch  fresh  gifts 
Grieved   to   be    poor;    till    slowly,  group   by 

group. 
Children  and  men  and  women  drew  behind 
Into  his  steps,  whispering  with  covered  lips, 
**  Who    is    he  ?    who  ?    when    looked    a    Rishi 

thus? 
But  as  he  came  with  quiet  footfall  on 
Nigh  the  pavilion,  lo  !    the  silken  door 
Lifted,  and,  all  unveiled,  Yasodhara 
Stood  in  his  path  crying,  "  Siddartha  !  Lord  !  " 
With   wide    eyes    streaming    and  with    close- 
clasped  hands. 
Then  sobbing  fell  upon  his  feet,  and  lay. 

Afterwards,  when  this  weeping  lady  passed 
Into  the  Noble  Paths,  and  one  had  prayed 
Answer  from  Buddha  wherefore — being  vowed 
Quit  of  all  mortal  passion  and  the  touch, 
13 


194  ^t)c  XiQbt  ot  Bsia 

Flower-soft   and    conquering,    of   a    woman's 

hands — 
He  suffered  such  embrace,  the  Master  said  : 
"  Tlie  greater  beareth  with  the  lesser  love 
So  it  may  raise  it  unto  easier  heights. 
Take  heed  that  no  man,  being  'scaped  from 

bonds, 
Vexeth  bound  souls  with  boasts  of  liberty. 
Free  are  ye  rather  that  your  freedom  spread 
By  patient  winning  and  sweet  wisdom's  skill. 
Three  eras  of  long  toil  bring  Bodhisats — 
Who  will  be  guides    and  help   this  darkling 

world — 
Unto  deliverance,  and  the  first  is  named 
Of  deep  *  Resolve,'  the  second  of  '  Attempt/ 
The  third  of  '  Nomination.*     Lo  !    I  lived 
In  era  of  Resolve,  desiring  good, 
Searching  for   wisdom,  but   mine   eyes  were 

sealed. 
Count  the  grey  seeds  on  yonder  castor-clump, 
So  many  rains  it  is  since  I  was  Ram, 
A  merchant  of  the  coast  which  looketh  south 
To  Lanka  and  the  hiding-place  of  pearls. 
Also  in  that  far  time  Yasodhara 
Dwelt  with  me  in  our  village  by  the  sea, 
Tender  as  now,  and  Lukshmi  was  her  name. 
And  I  remember  how  I  journeyed  thence 


JSooft  tbe  Seventb.  195 

Seeking  our  gain,  for  poor  the  household  was 
And  lowly.     Not  the  less  with  wistful  tears 
She  prayed  me  that   I   should  not  part,  nor 

tempt 
Perils  by  land  and  water.     '  How  could  love 
Leave  what  it  loved  ? '  she  wailed  ;  yet,  ventur- 
ing, I 
Passed  to  the  Straits,  and  after  storm  and  toil 
And  deadly  strife  with  creatures  of  the  deep. 
And  woes  beneath  the  midnight  and  the  noon, 
Searching  the  wave  I  won  therefrom  a  pearl 
Moonlike  and  glorious,  such  as  Kings   might 

buy 
Emptying  their  treasury.      Then  came  I  glad 
Unto  mine  hills,  but  over  all  that  land 
Famine  spread  sore  ;  ill  was  I  stead  to  live 
In   journey    home,    and    hardly   reached    my 

door — 
Aching  for  food — with  that  white    wealth  of 

the  sea 
Tied  in  my  girdle.     Yet  no  food  was  there  ; 
And  on  the  threshold  she  for  whom  I  toiled — 
More  than    myself — lay   with   her  speechless 

lips 
Nigh  unto  death  for  one  small  gift  of  grain. 
Then  cried  I,  '  If  there  be  who  hath  of  grain, 
Here  is  a  kingdom's  ransom  for  one  life  : 


196  ^be  Xfgbt  of  B5fa. 

Give  Lukshmi  bread  and  take  my  moonlight 

pearl.' 
Whereat  one  brought  the  last  of  all  his  hoard, 
Millet — three    seers — and   clutched  the  beau- 
teous thing 
But  Lukshmi  lived  and  sighed  with  gathered 

life, 
*  Lo  !  thou  didst  love  indeed ! '     I  spent  my 

pearl 
Well  in  that  life  to  comfort  heart  and  mind 
Else  quite  uncomforted,  but  these  pure  pearls, 
My  last  large  gain,  won  from  a  deeper  wave — 
The  Twelve  Nidanas  and  the  Law  of  Good — 
Cannot  be  spent,  nor  dimmed,  and  must  fulfil 
Their  perfect  beauty  being  freeliest  given. 
For  like  as  is  to  Meru  yonder  hill 
Heaped  by  the  little  ants,  and  like  as  dew 
Dropped  in  the  footmark  of  a  bounding  roe 
Unto  the  shoreless  seas,  so  was  that  gift 
Unto  my  present  giving  ;    and  so  love — 
Vaster  in  being  free  from  toils  of  sense — 
Was  wisest  stooping  to  the  weaker  heart ; 
And  so  the  feet  of  sweet  Yasodhara 
Passed  into  peace  and  bliss,  being  softly  led." 

But  when  the  King  heard  how  Siddartha 
came 


:JSooft  tbe  Seventb.  197 

Shorn,  with  the  mendicant's  sad-colored  cloth, 
And  stretching  out  a  bowl  to  gather  orts 
From    base-borns'    leavings,    wrathful  sorrow 

drove 
Love  from   his  heart.     Thrice  on  the  ground 

he  spat, 
Plucked    at   his    silvered   beard,    and    strode 

straight  forth 
Lackeyed  by   trembling  lords.     Frowning  he 

clomb 
Upon    his   war-horse,    drove    the    spurs,    and 

dashed, 
Angered,  though  wondering  streets  and  lanes 

of  folk. 
Scarce    finding   breath    to  say,   "  The    King ! 

bow  down ! " 
Ere  the  loud  cavalcade  had  clattered  by  : 
Which — at  the  turning  by  the  Temple-wall 
Where  the  south  gate  was  seen — encountered 

full 
A  mighty  crowd  ;  to  every  edge  of  it 
Poured  fast  more  people,  till  the  roads  were  lost, 
Blotted  by  that  huge  company  which  thronged 
And  grew,    close    following   him    whose  look 

serene 
Met  the  old   King's.     Nor  lived  the  father's 

wrath 


198  Zbc  XiQbt  of  B6ia. 

Longer  than  while  the  gentle  eyes  of  Buddh 
Lingered  in  worship  on  his  troubled  brows, 
Then  downcast  sank,  with  his  true   knee,   to 

earth 
In  proud  humility.     So  dear  it  seemed 
To   see  the  Prince,   to  know   him    whole,  to 

mark 
That  glory  greater  than  of  earthly  state 
Crowning     his     head,    that     majesty     which 

brought 
All  men,  so  awed  and  silent  in  his  steps. 
Nathless  the  King  broke  forth,  "  Ends  it  in 

this 
That  great  Siddartha  steals  into  his  realm, 
Wrapped  in  a  clout,  shorn,  sandalled,  craving 

food 
Of  low-borns,  he  whose  life  was  as  a  God's  ? 
My  son  !  heir  of  this  spacious  power,  and  heir 
Of    Kings    who    did  but  clap  their  palms  to 

have 
What  earth  could  give  or  eager  service  bring.? 
Thou  shouldst  have   come   apparelled  in  thy 

rank, 
With  shining  spears  and  tramp  of  horse  and 

foot. 
Lo  !  all  my  soldiers  camped  upon  the  road. 
And  all  my  city  waited  at  the  gates  ; 


:©ooft  tbe  Seventb.  199 

Where  hast  thou  sojourned  through  these  evil 

years 
Whilst  thy  crowned  father  mourned  ?  and  she, 

too,  there 
Lived  as  the  widows  use,  foregoing  joys  ; 
Never  once  hearing  sound  of  song  or  string. 
Nor  wearing  once  the  festal  robe,  till  now 
When  in  her  cloth  of  gold  she  welcomes  home 
A  beggar  spouse  in  yellow  remnants  clad. 
Son  !  why  is  this  ?  " 

"  My  Father  !  "  came  reply, 
"  It  is  the  custom  of  my  race." 

"  Thy  race," 
Answered   the    King    "  counteth    a    hundred 

thrones 
From  Maha  Sammat,  but  no  deed  like  this." 

"  Not  of  a  mortal  line,"  the  Master  said, 
"  I  spake,  but  of  descent  invisible. 
The  Buddhas  who  have  been   and  who  shall 

be: 
Of  these  am  I,  and  what  they  did  I  do, 
And  this  which  now  befalls  so  fell  before 
That  at  his  gate  a  King  in  warrior-mail 
Should  meet  his  son,  a  Prince  in  hermit-weeds  ; 
And    that,    by    love    and    self-control,    being 

more 


200  ^be  %\Qbt  of  Bsia, 

Than  mightiest  Kings  in  all  their  puissance, 
The  appointed  Helper  of  the   Worlds  should 

bow — 
As  now  do  I — and  with  all  lowly  love 
Proffer,  where  it  is  owed  for  tender  debts. 
The     first-fruits     of     the    treasure    he    hath 

brought ; 
Which  now  I  proffer." 

Then  the  King  amazed 
Inquired  "  What  treasure  ? "  and  the  Teacher 

took 
Meekly  the  royal  palm,  and  while  they  paced 
Through   worshipping    streets — the   Princess 

and  the  King 
On   either   side — he    told   the    things   which 

make 
For   peace   and   pureness,  these    Four  noble 

Truths 
Which   hold   all  wisdom  as  shores  shut  the 

seas 
Those  eight  right  rules  whereby  who  will  may 

walk — 
Monarch  or  slave — upon  the  perfect  Path 
That  hate  its  Stages  Four  and  Precepts  Eight, 
Whereby  whoso  will  live — mighty  or  mean 
Wise  or  unlearned,  man,    woman,    young   or 

old— 


3Bool!{  tbe  Seventh*  201 

Shall  soon  or  late  break  from   the  wheels  of 

life 
Attaining  blest  Nirvana.     So  they  came 
Into  the  Palace-porch,  Suddhodana 
With  brows  unknit  drinking  the  mighty  words, 
And  in  his  own  hand  carrying  Buddha's  bowl, 
Whilst  a  new  light  brightened  the  lovely  eyes 
Of  sweet  Yasodhara  and  sunned  her  tears, 
And   that   night   entered    they    the    Way   of 

Peace. 


202  ^be  ILifibt  ot  B0ia« 


g00fe  the  €i0litlt* 


A   BROAD   mead   spreads   by  swift  Kohana's 

bank 
At  Nagara  ;  five  days  shall  bring  a  man 
In  ox-wain  thither  from  Benares'  shrines 
Eastward    and    northward    journeyed.     The 

horns 
Of  white  Himala  look  upon  the  place, 
Which  all  the  year  is  glad  with  blooms  and  girt 
By  groves  made  green  from  that  bright  stream- 
let's wave. 
Soft  are  its  slopes  and  cool  its  fragrant  shades, 
And  holy  all  the  spirit  of  the  spot 
Unto    this   time :   the   breath   of   eve   comes 

hushed 
Over  the  tangled  thickets,  and  high  heaps 
Of  carved  red  stones  cloven  by  root  and  stem 
Of  creeping  fig,  and  clad  with  waving  veil 
Of  leaf  and  grass.     The  still  finake  glistens 

forth 
From  crumbled  work  of  lacand  cedar-beams 
To  coil  his  folds  there  on  deep-graven  slabs ; 


:<Boo?i  tbe  Eigbtb.  203 

The    lizard    dwells    and    darts    o'er    painted 

floors 
Where  Kings  have  paced ;  the  grey  fox  litters 

safe 
Under  the  broken  thrones  ;  only  the  peaks, 
And  stream,  and  sloping  lawns,  and  gentle  air 
Abide    unchanged.      All    else,    like    all    fair 

shows 
Of  life,  are  fled — for  this  is  where  it  stood, 
The  city  of  Suddhadana,  the  hill 
Whereon,  upon  an  eve  of  gold  and  blue 
At  sinking  sun  Lord  Buddha  set  himself 
To  teach  the  Law  in  hearing  of  his  own. 

Lo !  ye  shall  read  it  in  the  Sacred  Books 
How,   being   met   in    that    glad    pleasaunce- 

place — 
A  garden  in  old  days  with  hanging  walks, 
Fountains,   and   tanks,  and   rose-banked  ter- 
races 
Girdled  by  gay  pavilions  and  the  sweep 
Of  stately  palace-fronts — the  Master  sate 
Eminent,  worshipped,  all  the  earnest  throng 
Catching  the  opening  of  his  lips  to  learn 
The  wisdom  which  hath  made  our  Asia  mild ; 
Whereto  four  hundred  crores  of  living  souls 
Witness  this  day.    Upon  the  King's  right  hand 


204  ^be  Xfgbt  ot  Bsla. 

He  sate,  and  round  were  ranged  the  Sakya 

Lords 
Ananda,  Devadatta — all  the  Court. 
Behind  stood  Seriyut  and  Mugallan,  chiefs 
Of  the  calm  brethren  in  the  yellow  garb, 
A  goodly  company.     Between  his  knees 
Rahula  smiled  with  wondering  childish  eyes 
Bent  on  the  awful  face,  while  at  his  feet 
Sate  sweet  Yasodhara,  her  heartaches  gone, 
Foreseeing  that  fair  love  which  doth  not  feed 
On  fleeting  sense,  that  life  which  knows  no 

age. 
That  blessed  last   of   deaths  when  Death  is 

dead. 
His  victory  and  hers.     Wherefore  she  laid 
Her  hand  upon  his  hands,  folding  around 
Her  silver  shoulder-cloth  his  yellow  robe, 
Nearest  in  all  the  world  to  him  whose  words 
The  Three  Worlds  waited  for.     I  cannot  tell 
A  small  part  of  the  splendid  lore  which  broke 
From  Buddha's  lips :  I  am  a  late-come  scribe 
Who  love  the  Master  and  his  love  of  men. 
And  tell  this  legend,  knowing  he  was  wise. 
But  have  not  wit  to  speak  beyond  the  books ; 
And  time  hath  blurred  their  script   and  an- 
cient sense. 
Which  once  was  new  and  mighty,  moving  all. 


JBooft  tbc  Bigbtb.  205 

A  little  of  that  large  discourse  I  know 
Which  Buddha  spake  on  the  soft  Indian  eve. 
Also  I  know  it  writ  that  they  who  heard 
Were  more — lakhs  more — crores  more — than 

could  be  seen, 
For  all  the    Devas  and   the    Dead  thronged 

there, 
Till  Heaven  was  emptied  to  the  seventh  zone 
And  uttermost  dark  Hells  opened  their  bars ; 
Also  the  daylight  lingered  past  its  time 
In  rose-leaf  radiance  on  the  w^atching  peaks, 
So  that  it  seemed  Night  listened  in  the  glens 
And  Noon   upon    the   mountains  ;  yea !  they 

write. 
The  evening  stood  between  them  like  some 

maid 
Celestial,  love-struck,  rapt ;  the  smooth-rolled 

clouds 
Her    braided    hair ;    the    studded    stars    the 

pearls 
And  diamonds  of  her  coronal ;  the  moon 
Her  forehead-jewel,  and  the  deepening  dark 
Her  woven  garments.     'Twas  her  close-held 

breath 
Which  came  in  scented  sighs  across  the  lawns 
W^hile  our  Lord  taught,  and,  while  he  taught, 

who  heard — 


2o6  ^hc  XlQbt  of  B6fa. 

Though  he  were  stranger  in  the  land,  or  slave, 
High  caste  or  low,  come  of  the  Aryan  blood, 
Or  Mlech  or  Jungle-dweller — seemed  to  hear 
What  tongue  his  fellow  talked.     Nay,  outside 

those 
Who  crowded  by  the  river,  great  and  small, 
The  birds  and  beasts  and  creeping  things — 

'tis  writ — 
Had  sense  of  Buddha's  vast  embracing  love 
And  took  the  promise  of  his  piteous  speech  ; 
So  that  their  lives — prisoned  in  shape  of  ape, 
Tiger,  or  deer,  shagged  bear,  jackal,  or  wolf, 
Foul-feeding   kite,  pearled  dove,  or   peacock 

gemmed. 
Squat  toad,  or  speckled  serpent,  lizard,  bat ; 
Yea,  or  of  fish  fanning  the  river-waves — 
Touched  meekly  at  the  skirts  of  brotherhood 
With  man  who  hath  less  innocence  than  these  ; 
And  in   mute   gladness  knew  their   bondage 

broke 
Whilst  Buddha  spake  these  things  before  the 

King  :— 


Om,  amitaya  !  measure  not  with  words 

Th'  Immeasurable  :  nor  sink  the  string  of 
thought 


:©ooft  tbe  Bi^btb*  207 

Into  the  Fathomless.     Who  asks  doth  err, 
Who  answers,  errs.     Say  nought ! 

The  Books  teach  Darkness  was,  at  first  of  all, 
And  Brahm,  sole  meditating  in  that  Night : 

Look  not  for  Brahm  and  the  Beginning  there ! 
Nor  him,  nor  any  light. 

Shall  any  gazer  see  with  mortal  eyes, 
Or  any  searcher  know  by  mortal  mind, 

Veil  after  veil  will  lift — but  there  must  be 
Veil  upon  veil  behind. 

Stars    sweep     and     question     not.     This    is 
enough 
That  life  and  death  and  joy  and  woe  abide ; 
And  cause  and  sequence,  and  the  course  of 
time, 
And  Being's  ceaseless  tide, 

Which,    ever-changing,    runs,    linked    like    a 
river 
By  ripples  following  ripples,  fast,  or  slow — 
The    same   yet   not   the    same — from   far-off 
fountain 
To  where  its  waters  flow 

Into  the  seas.  These,  steaming  to  the  Sun, 
Give  the  lost  wavelets  back  in  cloudy  fleece 


2o8  tibe  Xlsbt  ot  2l0ia. 

To  trickle  down  the  hills,  and  glide  again  ; 
Having   no  pause  or  peace. 

This  is  enough  to  know,  the  phantasms  are ; 

The  Heavens,  Earths,  Worlds,  and  changes 
changing  them 
A  mighty  whirling  wheel  of  strife  and  stress 

Which  none  can  stay  or  stem. 

Pray  not !  the    Darkness   will    not   brighten ! 
Ask 
Nought    from  the    Silence,   for    it    cannot 
speak  ! 
Vex    not   your    mournful    minds   with   pious 
pains ! 
Ah  !     Brothers,  Sisters  !  seek 

Nought  from  the  helpless  gods  by  gift  and 
hymn. 
Nor  bribe  with  blood,  nor  feed  with  fruit 
and  cakes ; 
Within  yourselves  deliverance  must  be  sought ; 
Each  man  his  prison  makes. 

Each  hath  such  lordship  as  the  loftiest  ones ; 

Nay,  for  with  Powers  above,  around,  below, 
As  with  all  flesh  and  whatsoever  lives, 

Act  maketh  joy  and  woe. 


:fi5ooft  tbe  JBiQbtb*  209 

What  hath  been  bringeth  what  shall  be,  and  is, 
Worse — better — last  for  first  and  first  for 
last ; 

The  Angels  in  the  Heavens  of  Gladness  reap 
Fruits  of  a  holy  past. 

The  devils  in  the  underworlds  wear  out 

Deeds  that  were  wicked  in  an  age  gone  by. 

Nothing  endures  ;  fair  virtues  waste  with  time, 
Foul  sins  grow  purged  thereby. 

Who  toiled  a  slave  may  come  anew  a  Prince 
For  gentle  worthiness  and  merit  won ; 

AVho  ruled  a  King  may  wander  earth  in  rags 
For  things  done  and  undone. 

Higher  than  Indra's  ye  may  lift  your  lot, 
And  sink  it  lower  than  the  worm  or  gnat ; 

The  end  of  many  myriad  lives  is  this, 
The  end  of  myriads  that. 

Only,  while  turns  this  wheel  invisible. 

No  pause,  no  peace,  no  staying-place  can  be  ; 

"Who  mounts  will  fall,  who  falls   may  mount ; 
the  spokes 
Go  round  unceasingly ! 

14 


210  trbe  %iQbt  of  Bsia. 

If  ye  lay  bound  upon  the  wheel  of  change, 
And  no  way  were  of  breaking  from  the  chain, 

The  Heart  of  boundless  Being  is  a  curse, 
The  Soul  of  Things  fell  Pain. 

Ye  are  not  bound !  the  Soul  of  Things  is  sweet. 
The  Heart  of  Being  is  celestial  rest ; 

Stronger  than  woe  is  will :    that  which  was 
Good 
Doth  pass  to  Better — Best. 

I,.  Buddh,  who  wept  with  all  my  brothers'  tears, 
Whose  heart  was  broken  by  a  whole  world's 
woe, 

Laugh  and  am  glad,  for  there  is  Liberty ! 
Ho  !  ye  who  suffer  !  know 

Ye  suffer  from  yourselves.     None  else  compels,, 
None  other  holds  you  that  ye  live  and  die, 

And  whirl  upon  the  wheel,  and  hug  and  kiss 
Its  spokes  of  agony, 

Its  tire  of  tears,  its  nave  of  nothingness. 

Behold,  I   show  you  Truth  !      Lower  than 
hell, 
Higher  than  heaven^  outside  the  utmost  stars, 

Farther  than  Brahm  doth  dwell 


3i5ooft  tbe  JBiQbtb.  2n 

Before  beginning,  and  without  an  end, 
As  space  eternal  and  as  surety  sure, 

Is  fixed  a  Power  divine  which  moves  to  good, 
Only  its  laws  endure. 

This  is  its  touch  upon  the  blossomed  rose. 
The  fashion  of  its  hand  shaped  lotus-leaves; 

In  dark  soil  and  the  silence  of  the  seeds 
The  robe  of  Spring  it  weaves  ; 

That  is  its  painting  on  the  glorious  clouds. 
And  these  its  emeralds   on  the  peacock's 
train  ; 

It  hath  its  stations  in  the  stars;  its  slaves 
In  lightning,  wind,  and  rain. 

Out  of  the  dark  it  wrought  the  heart  of  man, 
Out  of  dull  shells  the  pheasant's  pencilled 
neck; 

Ever  at  toil,  it  brings  to  loveliness 
All  ancient  wrath  and  wreck. 

The  grey  eggs  in  the  golden  sun-bird's  nest 
Its  treasures  are,  the  bees'  six-sided  cell 

Its  honey-pot ;  the  ant  wots  of  its  ways, 
The  white  doves  know  them  well. 

It  spreadeth  forth  for  flight  the  eagle's  wings 
What  time  she  beareth  home  her  prey ;  it 
sends 


212  ^bc  Xigbt  of  Bsia. 

The  she-wolf  to  her  cubs  ;  for  unloved  things 
It  findeth  food  and  friends. 

It  is  not  marred  nor  stayed  in  any  use, 

All  liketh  it ;  the  sweet  white  milk  it  brings 

To  mothers'  breasts  ;  it  brings  the  white  drops, 
too, 
Wherewith  the  young  snake  stings. 

The  ordered  music  of  the  marching  orbs 
It  makes  in  viewless  canopy  of  sky  ; 

In  deep  abyss  of  earth  it  hides  up  gold, 
Sards,  sapphires,  lazuli. 

Ever  and  ever  bringing  secrets  forth, 
It  sitteth  in  the  green  of  forest-glades 

Nursing  strange  seedlings  at  the  cedar's  root, 
Devising  leaves,  blooms,  blades. 

It  slayeth  and  it  saveth,  nowise  moved 
Except  unto  the  working  out  of  doom  ; 

Its  threads  are  Love   and   Life  ;  and  Death 
and  Pain 
The  shuttles  of  its  loom. 

It  maketh  and  unmaketh,  mending  all ; 

What  it  hath  wrought  is  better  than  hath 
been ; 
Slow  grows  the  splendid  pattern  that  it  plans 

Its  wistful  hands  between. 


JSooft  tbe  JEiabtb.  213 

This  is  its  work  upon  the  things  ye  see, 

The  unseen   things  are  more  ;  men's  hearts 
and  minds, 
The  thoughts  of  peoples  and   their  ways  and 
wills. 
Those,  too,  the  great  Law  binds. 

Unseen  it  helpeth  ye  with  faithful  hands, 
Unheard  it  speaketh  stronger  than  the  storm, 

Pity  and  Love  are  man's  because  long  stress 
Moulded  blind  mass  to  form. 

It  will  not  be  contemned  of  any  one  ; 

Who  thwarts    it  loses,  and   who  serves   it 
gains  ; 
The  hidden  good  it  pays  with  peace  and  bliss, 

The  hidden  ill  with  pains. 

It  seeth  everywhere  and  marketh  all ; 

Do  right — itrecompenseth  !  do  one  wrong — 
The  equal  retribution  must  be  made. 

Though  Dharma  tarry  long. 

It  knows  not  wrath  nor  pardon  ;  utter-true 
Its   measures    mete,    its   faultless    balance 
weighs  ; 

Times  are  as  nought,  to-morrow  it  will  judge, 
Or  after  many  days. 


214  ^be  %iQbt  of  Bsla. 

By  this  the  slayer's  knife  did  stab  himself ; 

The  unjust  judge  hath  lost  his  own  defender  ; 
The  false  tongue  dooms  its  lie ;  the  creeping 
thief 

And  spoiler  rob,  to  render. 

Such  is  the  Law  which  moves  to  righteousness, 
Which  none  at  last  can  turn  aside  or  stay ; 

The  heart  of  it  is  Love,  the  end  of  it 

Is  Peace  and  Consummation  sweet.    Obey  ! 


The  Books  say  well,  my  Brothers  !  each  man's 
life 
The  outcome  of  his  former  living  is  ; 
The  bygone  wrongs  bring  forth   sorrows   and 
woes 
The  bygone  right  breeds  bliss. 

That   which   ye   sow    ye   reap.      See   yonder 
fields  ! 
The  sesamum  was  sesamum,  the  corn 
Was  corn.     The    Silence   and   the   Darkness 
knew ! 
So  is  a  man's  fate  born. 

He  Cometh,  reaper  of  the  things  he  sowed, 
Sesamum,  corn,  so  much  cast  in  past  birth , 


:fi3ooft  tbe  Bisbtb.  215 

And  so  much  weed  and  poison-stuff,  which  mar 
Him  and  the  aching  earth. 

If  he  shall  labor  rightly,  rooting  these, 

And   planting  wholesome  seedlings  where 
they  grew, 

Fruitful  and  fair  and  clean  the  ground  shall  be^ 
And  rich  the  harvest  due. 

If  he  who  liveth,  learning  whence  woe  springs, 
Endureth  patiently,  striving  to  pay 

His  utmost  debt  for  ancient  evils  done 
In  Love  and  Truth  alway  ; 

If  making  none  to  lack,  he  thoroughly  purge 
The  lie  and  lust  of  self  forth  from  his  blood ; 

Suffering  all  meekly,  rendering  for  offence 
Nothing  but  grace  and  good  : 

If  he  shall  day  by  day  dwell  merciful, 

Holy  and  just  and  kind  and  true  ;  and  rend 

Desire   from   where   it   clings   with   bleeding 
roots. 
Till  love  of  life  have  end  : 

He — dying — leaveth  as  the  sum  of  him 

A  life-count  closed,  whose  ills  are  dead  and 
quit, 


2i6  ^bc  Xigbt  ot  Bsia. 

Whose  good  is  quick  and  mighty,  far  and  near, 
So  that  fruits  follow  it. 

No  need  hath  such  to  live  as  ye  name  life ; 

That  which  began  in  him  when  he  began 
Is   finished :    he    hath    wrought   the   purpose 
through 

Of  what  did  make  him  Alan. 

Never  shall  yearnings  torture  him,  nor  sins 
Stain  him,  nor  ache  of  earthly  joys  and  woes 

Invade  his  safe  eternal  peace  ;  nor  deaths 
And  lives  recur.     He  goes 

Unto  Nirvana.     He  is  one  with  Life 

Yet  lives  not.     He  is  blest,  ceasing  to  be. 

Om,  mani  padme,  om  !  the  Dewdrop  slips 
Into  the  shinino:  sea  ! 


This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  Karma.     Learn  ! 

Only  when  all  the  dross  of  sin  is  quit, 
Only  when  life  dies  like  a  white  flame  spent 

Death  dies  along  with  it. 

Say  not  '•  I  am,"  "  I  was,"  or  "  I  shall  be," 
Think  not  ye  pass  from  house  to  house  of 
flesh 


:iSoo\{  tbeBigbtt).  *  217 

Like  travellers  who  remember  and  forget, 
Ill-lodged  or  well-lodged.     Fresh 

Issues  upon  the  Universe  that  sum 

Which  is  the  lattermost  of  lives.     It  makes 

Its  habitation  as  the  worm  spins  silk 
And  dwells  therein.     It  takes 

Function  and  substance  as  the  snake's  egg 
hatched 
Takes  scale  and   fang;  as  feathered  reed- 
seeds  fly 
O'er  rock  and  loam  and  sand,  until  they  find 
Their  marsh  and  multiply. 

Also  it  issues  forth  to  help  or  hurt. 

When  Death  the  bitter  murderer  doth  smite^ 
Red  roams  the  unpurged  fragment  of  him^ 
driven 

On  wings  of  plague  and  blight. 

But  when  the  mild  and  just  die,   sweet  airs 
breathe 

The  world  grows  richer,  as  if  desert-stream 
Should  sink  away  to  sparkle  up  again 

Purer,  with  broader  gleam. 

So  merit  won  winneth  the  happier  age 
Which  by  demerit  halteth  short  of  end  ; 


2i8  ^be  XlQbt  of  B6la. 

Yet  must  this  Law  of  Love  reign  King  of  all 
Before  the  Kalpas  end. 

What  lets  ? — Brothers  !    the    Darkness    lets  ! 
which  breeds 
Ignorance,   mazed  whereby  ye  take   these 
shows 
For  true,  and  thirst  to  have,  and,  having,  cling 
To  lusts  which  work  you  woes. 

Ye  that  will  tread  the  Middle  Road,  whose 
course 
Bright     Reason    traces     and     soft    Quiet 
smoothes ; 
Ye  who  will  take  the  high  Nirvana-way 
List  the  Four  Noble  Truths. 

The    First    Truth   is    of    Sorrow.     Be    not 
mocked  ! 

Life  which  ye  prize  is  long-drawn  agony  : 
Only  its  pains  abide  ;  its  pleasures  are 

As  birds  which  light  and  fly. 

Ache  of  the  birth,  ache  of  the  helpless  days. 
Ache  of  hot  youth  and  ache  of  manhood's 
prime  ; 

Ache  of  the  chill  grey  years  and  choking  death, 
These  fill  your  piteous  time. 


:©oo]ft  tbe  Bigbtb*  219 

Sweet  is  fond  Love,  but  funeral-flames   must 
kiss 
The  breasts  wliich  pillow  and  the  lips  which 
cling ; 
Gallant  is  warlike  Might,  but  vultures  pick 
The  joints  of  chief  and  King. 

Beauteous  is  Earth,  but  all  its  forest-broods 
Plot  mutual  slaughter,  hungering  to  live ; 

Of  sapphire  are  the  skies,  but  when  men  cry 
Famished,  no  drops  they  give. 

Ask  of  the  sick,  the  mourners,  ask  of  him 
Who  tottereth  on  his  staff,  lone  and  forlorn^ 

"Likeththee  hfe  ?  " — these  say  the   babe  is 
wise 
That  weepeth,  being  born. 

The  Second  Truth  is  Sorrow's  Cause.     What 
grief 

Springs  of  itself  and  springs  not  of  Desire  ? 
Senses  and  things  perceived  mingle  and  light 

Passion's  quick  spark  of  fire  : 

So  flameth  Trishna,  lust  and  thirst  of  things. 

Eager  ye  cleave  to  shadows,  dote  on  dreams  j 
A  false  Self  in  the  midst  ye  plant,  and  make 

A  world  around  which  seems  ; 


220  ^be  %iQbt  of  Bsia. 

Blind  to  the  height  beyond,  deaf  to  the  sound 
Of  sweet  airs  breathed  from  far  past  Indra's 
sky; 

Dumb  to  the  summons  of  the  true  life  kept 
For  him  who  false  puts  by. 

So  grow  the  strifes  and  lusts  which  make 
earth's  war,  tears  ; 

So  grieve  poor  cheated  hearts  and  flow  salt 
So  w'ax  the  passions,  envies,  angers,  hates  ; 

So  years  chase  blood-stained  years 

With  wild  red  feet.     So,  where  the  grain  should 
grow. 
Spreads  the  biran-weed  with  its  evil  root 
And  poisonous  blossoms ;  hardly  good  seeds 
find 
Soil  where  to  fall  and  shoot ; 

And  drugged  with  jDoisonous  drink  the  soul 
departs,  returns ; 

And  fierce  with  thirst  to  drink  Karma 
Sense-struck  again  the  sodden  self  begins, 

And  new  deceits  it  earns. 

The     Third    is     Sorroul's    Ceasing.      This   is 
peace 
To  conquer  love  of  self  and  lust  of  life. 


JSoo!?  tbe  Bigbtb.  221 

To  tear  deep-rooted  passion  from  the  breast, 
To  still  the  inward  strife  ; 

For  love  to  clasp  Eternal  Beauty  close ; 

For  glory  to  be  Lord  of  self,  for  pleasure 
To    live    beyond    the    gods ;     for    countless 
wealth 

To  lay  up  lasting  treasure 

Of  perfect  service  rendered,  duties  done 
In  charity,  soft  speech,  and  stainless  days  : 

These  riches  shall  not  fade  away  in  life, 
Nor  any  death  dispraise. 

Then  Sorrow   ends,  for  Life  and  Death  have 
ceased  ; 
How  should  lamps  flicker  when   their   oil  is 
spent  ? 
The  old  sad  count  is  clear,  the  new  is  clean ; 
Thus  hath  a  man  content. 


The  Fourth  Truth   is  The    Way.     It  openeth 
wide. 

Plain  for  all  feet  to  tread,  easy  and  near, 
1\i^  Noble  Eightfold  Path  ;  it  goeth  straight 

To  peace  and  refuge.     Hear  ! 


222  ^be  XiQbt  ot  2l0ia, 

Manifold  tracks  lead  to  yon  sister-peaks 
Around  whose  snows  the  gilded  clouds  are 
curled ; 

By  steep  or  gentle  slopes  the  climber  comes 
Where  breaks  that  other  world. 

Strong  limbs  may  dare  the  rugged  road  which 
storms, 
Soaring  and  perilous,  the  mountain's  breast ;  . 
The  weak   must  wind  from  slower  ledge  to 
ledge 
With  many  a  place  of  rest. 

So    is    the    Eightfold    Path   w^hich   brings    to 
peace  ; 

By  lower  or  by  upper  heights  it  goes. 
The  firm  soul  hastes,  the  feeble  tarries.     All 

Will  reach  the  sunlit  snows. 

The  First  good  Level  is  Right  Doctri7ie.    Walk 
In  fear  of  Dharma,  shunning  all  offence ; 

In  heed  of  Karma,  which   doth  make   man's 
fate; 
In  lordship  over  sense. 

The  Second  is  Right  Pu7-pose.     Have  good« 
will 
To  all  that  lives,  letting  unkindness  die 


:©ooft  tbe  JBigbtb.  223 

And  greed  and  wrath  ;     so  that  your  lives  be 
made 
Like  soft  airs  passing  by. 

The  Third  is  Right  Discourse.  Govern  the 
Hps 

As  they  were  palace-doors,  the  King  within  ; 
Tranquil  and  fair  and  courteous  be  all  words 

Which  from  that  presence  win. 

The  Fourth  is  Right  Behavior.     Let  each  act 
Assoil  a  fault  or  help  a  merit  grow  : 

Like  threads  of   silver  seen   through   crystal 
beads 
Let  love  through  good  deeds  show. 

Pour  higher  roadways  be.     Only  those  feet 
May   tread    them    which    have    done   with 
earthly  things ; 

Right  Purity,  Right  Thought,  Right  Loneliness^ 
Right  Rapture.     Spread  no  wings 

For  sunward  flight,  thou  soul  with  unplumed 
vans ! 

Sweet  is  the  lower  air  and  safe,  and  known 
The  homely  levels  :  only  strong  ones  leave 

The  nest  each  makes  his  own. 


224  ^be  Xigbt  of  Bsia, 

Dear  is  the  love,  I  know,  of  Wife  and  Child ; 

Pleasant  the  friends  and  pastimes   of  youl 
years ; 
Fruitful  of  good  Life's  gentle  charities  ; 

False,  though  firm-set,  its  fears. 

Live — ye  who   must — such   lives    as   live  on 
these ; 
Make  golden  stairways  of  your  weakness  j 
rise 
Ey  daily  sojourn  with  those  phantasies 
To  lovelier  verities. 

So  shall  ye  pass  to  clearer  heights  and  find 
Easier  ascents  and  lighter  loads  of  sins, 

And  larger  will  to  burst  the  bonds  of  sense, 
Entering  the  Path.     Who  wins 

To  such  commencement  hath  the  First  Stage 
touched  ; 
He  knows  the  Noble  Truths,  the  Eightfold 
Road; 
By  few  or  many  steps  such  shall  attain 
Nirvana's  blest  abode. 

W^ho  standeth  at  the  Second  Stage,  made  free 
From   doubts,    delusions,    and  the    inward 
^strife, 


JSoo?i  tbe  Bi0btb.  225 

Lord  of  all  lusts,  quit  of  the  priests  and  books, 
Shall  live  but  one  more  life. 

Yet  onward  lies  the  Third  Stage :  purged  and 
pure 

Hath  grown  the  stately  spirit  here,  hathrisen 
To  love  all  living  things  in  perfect  peace. 

His  life  at  end,  life's  prison 

Is  broken.     Nay,  there  are  who  surely  pass 
Living  and  visible  to  utmost  goal 

By    Fourth   Stage    of    the    Holy    ones — the 
Buddhs— 
And  they  of  stainless  soul. 

Lo  !  like  fierce  foes  slain  by  some  warrior. 
Ten  sins  along  these  Stages  lie  in   dust. 

The  Love  of  Self,  False  Faith,  and  Doubt  are 
three. 
Two  more.  Hatred  and  Lust. 

Who  of  these  Five  is  conqueror  hath  trod 
Three  stages  out  of  Four  :  yet  there  abide 

The  Love  of  Life  on  earth.  Desire  forHeaven, 
Self-Praise,  Error,  and  Pride. 

As  one  who  stands  on  yonder  snowy  horn 
Having  nought  o'er  him  but  the  boundless 
blue, 
15 


226  ^be  Xlsbt  ot  Bsia, 

So,  these  sins  being  slain,  the  man  is  come 
Nirvana's  verge  unto 

Him  the  Gods  envy  from  their  lower  seats  ; 

Him  the  Three  Worlds  in  ruin  should  not 
shake  ; 
All  life  is  lived  for  him,  all  deaths  are  dead  ; 

Karma  will  no  more  make 

New  houses.     Seeking  nothing,  he  gains  all ; 

Foregoing  self,  the  Universe  grows  "  I  "  : 
If  any  teach  NIRVANA  is  to  cease, 

Say  unto  such  they  lie. 

If  any  teach  NIRVANA  is  to  live, 

Say  unto  such  they  err  ;  not  knowing  this, 

Nor  what  light  shines  beyond  their   broken 
lamps. 
Nor  lifeless,  timeless  bliss. 

Enter  the  Path  !     There  is  no  grief  like  Hate ! 

No  pains  like  passions,  no  deceit  like  sense  I 
Enter  the  Path  !    far  hath  he  gone  whose  foot 

Treads  down  one  fond  offence. 

Enter   the   Path  !     There  spring  the    healing 
streams 
Quenching  all  thirst !   there  bloom  th'  im- 
mortal flowers 


JBooft  tbe  Bicjbtb.  227 

Carpeting  all  the  way  with  joy  !  there  throng 
Swiftest  and  sweetest  hours  1 


More  is  the  treasure  of  the  Law  than  gems  ; 

Sweeter  than   comb   its   sweetness ;   its  de- 
lights 
Delightful  past  compare.     Thereby  to  live 

Hear  the  Five  Rules  aright  : — 

Kill  not^for  Pity's  sake — and  lest  ye  slay 
The  meanest  thing  upon  its  upward  way. 

Give  freely  and  receive,  but  take  from  none 
By  greed,  or  force  or  fraud,  what  is  his  own. 

Bear  not  false  witness,  slander  not,  nor  lie ; 
Truth  is  the  speech  of  inward  purity. 

Shun  drugs   and  drinks  which  work    the  wit 

abuse ; 
Clear   minds,    clean   bodies,    need   no    Soma 

juice. 

Touch  not  thy  neighbor's  wife,  neither  commit 
Sins  of  the  flesh  unlawful  and  unfit. 


22$  XLbc  Xlgbt  of  Bsfa. 

These    words   the    Master   spake    of   duties 

due 
To  father,  mother,  children,  fellows,  friends  ; 
Teaching  how  such  as  may  not  swiftly  break 
The  clinging  chains  of  sense — whose  feet  arfe 

weak 
To  tread  the  higher  road — should  order  so 
This  life  of  flesh  that  all  their  hither  days 
Pass  blameless  in  discharge  of  charities 
And  first  true  footfalls  in  the  Eightfold  Path  ; 
Living  pure,  reverent,  patient,  pitiful. 
Loving  all  things    which  live   even  as  them- 
selves ; 
Because  what  falls  for  ill  is  fruit  of  ill 
Wrought  in   the  past,  and  what  falls  well  of 

good; 
And  that  by  hov/somuch  the  householder 
Purgeth  himself  of  self  and  helps  the  world. 
By  so  much  happier  comes  he  to  next  stage, 
In  so  much  bettered  being.     This  he  spake. 
As  also  long  before,  when  our  Lord  walked 
By  Rajagriha  in  the  bamboo-grove  : 
For  on  a  dawn  he  walked  there  and  beheld 
The  householder  Singala,  newly  bathed. 
Bowing  himself  with  bare  head  to  the  earth. 
To   Heaven,    and  all  four  quarters ;  while  he 
threw 


:©oo?i  tbe  jEigbtb.  229 

Rice,     red     and    white,    from    both     hands. 

"  Wherefore  thus 
Bowest  thou,  Brother  ?  "  said  the  Lord  ;  and  he, 
"  It  is  the  way,  Great  Sir  !  our  fathers  taught 
At  every  dawn,  before  the  toil  begins, 
To  hold  off  evil  from  the  sky  above 
And  earth  beneath,  and  all   the  winds  which 

blow."  [rice, 

Then  the  World-honored  spake  :  "  Scatter  not 
But  offer  loving  thoughts  and  acts  to  all. 
To  parents  as  the  East  where  rises  light  ;  . 
To  teachers   as  the   South  whence  rich  gifts 

come  ; 
To  wife  and  children  as  the  West  where  gleam 
Colors  of  l&ve  and  calm,  and  all  days  end  ; 
To  friends  and  kinsmen  and  all  men  as  North  ; 
To  humblest  living  things  beneath,  to  Saints 
And  Angels  and  the  blessed  Dead  above  : 
So  shall  all  evil  be  shut  off,  and  so 
The  six  main  quarters  will  be  safely  kept." 

But  to  his  own,  them  of  the  yellow  robe — 
They  who,  as  wakened  eagles,  soar  with  scorn 
From   life's   low  vale,  and  wing  towards   the 

Sun — 
To  these  he  taught  the  Ten  Observances 
The  Dasa-SIL  and  how  a  mendicant 


:23o  Zbe  %iQbt  ot  2l6ia. 

Must  know  the  Three  Doors  and  the    Triple 

Thoughts  ; 
The    Sixfold  States   of  Mind ;    the    Fivefold 

Powers ; 
The  Eight  High  Gates  of  Purity  ;  the  Modes 
Of  Understanding  ;  Iddhi ;  Upeksha  ; 
The   Five  Great  Meditatio?is,  which  are  food 
Sweeter  than  Amrit  for  the  holy  soul ; 
^hefhana's  and  the  Three  Chief  Refuges. 
Also    he   taught   his   own    how  they   should 

dwell ; 
How  live,  free  from  the  snares  of  love  and 

wealth ; 
What  eat  and   drink  and   carry — three   plain 

cloths, —  *     [bare — 

Yellow,  of  stitched  stuff,  worn  with  shoulder 
A  girdle,  almsbowl,  strainer.     Thus  he  laid 
The  great  foundations  of  our  Sangha  well, 
That  noble  Order  of  the  Yellow  Robe 
Which  to  this  day  standeth  to  help  the  World. 

So   all  that   night   he   spake,  teaching  the 
Law  : 
And  on  no  eyes  fell  sleep — for  they  who  heard 
Rejoiced  with  tireless  joy.     Also  the  King, 
When  this  was  finished,  rose  upon  his  throne 
And  with  bared  feet  bowed  low  before  his  Son 


:©ooft  tbc  Bigbtb.  231 

Kissing   his   hem ;   and   said,  "  Take   me,  O 

Son! 
Lowest  and  least  of  all  thy  Company." 
And  sweet  Yasodhara,  all  happy  now, — 
Cried  "  Give  to  Rahula — thou  Blessed  One 
The  Treasure  of  the  Kingdom  of  thy  Word 
For   his    inheritance."      Thus    passed    these 

Three 
Into  the  Path. 


Here  endeth  what  I  write 
Who  love  the  Master  for  his  love  of  us. 
A  little  knowing,  little  have  I  told 
Touching  the  Teacher  and  the  Ways  of  Peace. 
Forty-five  rains  thereafter  showed  he  those 
In  many  lands  and  many  tongues  and  gave 
Our  Asia  light,  that  still  is  beautiful, 
Conquering    the    world   with  spirit  of  strong 

grace  : 
All  which  is  written  in  the  holy  Books, 
And   where  he  passed   and  what  proud   Em- 
perors 
Carved  his  sweet  words  upon  the  rocks  and 

caves  : 
And  how — in  fulness  of  the  times — it  fell 


232  ^be  Ulflbt  ot  Bafa. 

The  Buddha  died,  the  great  Tathagato, 
Even  as  a  man  'mongst  men,  fulfilling  all : 
And  how  a  thousand  thousand   crores  since 

then 
Have  trod  the   Path  which   leads  whither  he 

went 
Unto  Nirvana  where  the  Silence  lives. 


Ah  !  Blessed  Lord  !  Oh,  High  Deliverer  I 
Forgive   this   feeble   script,   which   doth 

thee  wrong 
Measuring  with  little  wit  thy  lofty  Love. 
Ah  !  Lover  !  Brother  !  Guide  !  Lamp  of  the. 

Law  ! 
i  take  my  refuge  in  thy  name  and  thee  1 

1   TAKE  MY  REFUGE  IN  THY  LaW  OF  GoOD  ! 
I  TAKE  MY  REFUGE  IN  THY  OrDER  !    OM/ 

The  Dew  is   on   the  lotus  ! — rise,  Great 

Sun  ! 
And  lift  my  leaf  and  mix  me  with  the 

WAVE. 

Om  mani  padme  hum,  the  Sunrise  comes  I 
The  Dewdrop  slips  into  the  shining  Sea  ! 


BY    EDWIN    ARNOLD. 

He  who  died  at  Azan  sends 
This  to  comfort  all  his  friends  : 

Faithful  friends  !     It  lies,  I  know, 
Pale 'and  white  and  cold  as  sno\i; 
And  ye  say,  "  Abdallah  's  dead  ! " 
Weeping  at  the  feet  and  head, 
I  can  see  your  falling  tears, 
I  can  hear  your  sighs  and  prayers ; 
Yet  I  smile  and  whisper  this, — 
"  /am  not  the  thing  you  kiss  ; 
Cease  your  tears,  and  let  it  lie  ; 
It  was  mine,  it  is  not  I." 

Sweet  friends  !     What  the  women  lave 
For  its  last  bed  of  the  grave, 
Is  but  a  hut  which  I  am  quitting, 
Is  a  garment  no  more  fitting, 
Is  a  cage  from  which,  at  last. 
Like  a  hawk  my  soul  hath  passed. 
Love  the  inmate,  not  the  room, — 
The  wearer,  not  the  garb,— the  plume 

233 


^34  'BtXcx  2)eatb  in  Arabia. 

Of  the  falcon,  not  the  bars 

Which  kept  him  from  those  splendid  stars* 

Loving  friends  !     Be  wise  and  dry 
Straightway  every  weeping  eye. — 
What  ye  lift  upon  the  bier 
Is  not  worth  a  wistful  tear. 
'T  is  an  empty  sea-shell, — one 
Out  of  which  the  pearl  is  gone ; 
The  shell  is  broken,  it  lies  there ; 
The  pearl,  the  all,  the  soul,  is  here. 
'T  is  an  earthen  jar,  whose  lid 
Allah  sealed,  the  while  it  hid 
That  treasure  of  his  treasury, 
A  mind  that  loved  him ;  let  it  lie  ! 
Let  the  shard  be  earth's  once  more, 
Since  the  gold  shines  in  his  store ! 

Allah  glorious  !     Allah  good  ! 
Now  thy  world  is  understood  ; 
Now  the  long,  long  wonder  ends ; 
Yet  ye  weep,  my  erring  friends. 
While  the  man  whom  ye  call  dead, 
In  unspoken  bliss,  instead. 
Lives  and  loves  you  ;  lost,  't  is  true. 
By  such  light  as  shines  for  you ; 
But  in  the  light  ye  cannot  see 
Of  unfulfilled  felicity,— 


Uttct  2)eatb  in  Brabia. 

In  enlarging  paradise, 
Lives  a  life  that  never  dies. 

Farewell,  friends  !     Yet  not  farewell ; 
Where  I  am,  ye,  too,  shall  dwell. 
I  am  gone  before  your  face, 
A  moment's  time,  a  little  space. 
When  ye  come  where  I  have  stepped 
Ye  will  wonder  why  ye  wept ; 
Ye  will  know,  by  wise  love  taught, 
That  here  is  all,  and  there  is  naught. 
Weep  awhile,  if  ye  are  fain, — 
Sunshine  still  must  follow  rain  ; 
Only  not  at  death, — for  death. 
Now  I  know,  is  that  first  breath 
Which  our  souls  draw  when  we  enter 
Life,  which  is  of  all  life  centre. 

Be  ye  certain  all  seems  love. 

Viewed  from  Allah's  throne  above  ; 

Be  ye  stout  of  heart,  and  come 

Bravely  onward  to  your  home  ! 

Za  Allah  ilia  Allah  !  yea  ! 

Thou  love  divine  !     Thou  love  alway  ! 

He  that  died  at  Azan  gave 

This  to  those  who  made  his  grave. 


235 


BY    EDWIN    ARNOLD. 

**  She  is  dead  !  "  they    said   to  him  ;  "  come 

away ; 
Kiss  her  and  leave  her, — thy  love  is  clay  !  " 

They  smoothed   her   tresses   of   dark   brown 

hair; 
On  her  forehead  of  stone  they  laid  it  fair ; 

Over  her  eyes  that  gazed  too  much 
They  drew  the  lids  with  a  gentle  touch  ; 

With  a  tender  touch  they  closed  up  well 
The  sweet  thin  lips  that  had  secrets  to  tell ; 

About  her  brows  and  beautiful  face 
They  tied  her  veil  and  her  marriage  lace, 

And  drew   on  her   white  feet  her  white  silk 

shoes — 
Which  were  the  whitest  no  eye  could  choose — 

And  over  her  bosom  they  crossed  her  hands. 
"  Come   away !  "    they    said ;    "  God    under- 
stands." 

236 


*'  Sbe  and  Ibe/'  237 

And  there  was  silence,  and  nothing  there 
But  silence,  and  scents  of  eglantere, 

And  jasmine,  and  roses,  and  rosemary ; 

And  they  said,  "  As  a  lady  should  lie,  lies  she." 

And  they  held  their  breath  till  they  left  the 

room, 
With  a  shudder,  to  glance  at  its  stillness  and 

gloom. 

But  he  who  lov'd  her  too  well  to  dread 
The  sweet,  the  stately,  the  beautiful  dead, 

He  lit  his  lamp  and  took  the  key 

And  turned  it — alone  again — he  and  she. 

He  and  she  ;  but  she  would  not  speak, 
Though  he  kissed,  in  the  old  place,  the  quiet 
cheek. 

He  and  she  ;  yet  she  would  not  smile, 
Though  he  called  her  the  name  she  loved  ere- 
while. 

He  and  she ;  still  she  did  not  move 
To  any  one  passionate  whisper  of  love. 

Then  he  said  :  "  Cold  lips  and  breasts  without 

breath. 
Is  there  no  voice,  no  language  of  death  ? 


238  **  Sbc  anD  Ibe." 

"  Dumb  to  the  ear  and  still  to  the  sense, 
But  to  heart  and  to  soul  distinct,  intense  ? 

"  See  now;  I  will  listen  with  soul,  not  ear; 
What  was  the  secret  of  dying,  dear  ? 

"  Was  it  the  infinite  wonder  of  all 

That  you  ever  could  let  life's  flower  fall  ? 

"  Or  was  it  a  greater  marvel  to  feel 
The  perfect  calm  o'er  the  agony  steal  ? 

"Was  the  miracle  greater  to  find  how  deep 
Beyond  all  dreams  sank  downward  that  sleep  ? 

"  Did  life  roll  back  its  records  dear. 
And  show,  as   they   say  it  does,  past   things 
clear  ? 

"  And  was  it  the  innermost  heart  of  the  bliss 
To  find  out  so,  what  a  wisdom  love  is  ? 

"  O  perfect  dead  !  O  dead  most  .dear, 
I  hold  the  breath  of  my  soul  to  hear ! 

"  I  listen  as  deep  as  to  horrible  hell. 

As  high  as  to  heaven,  and  you  do  not  tell. 

"  There  must  be  pleasure  in  dying,  sweet, 
To  make  you  so  placid  from  head  to  feet ! 


**  Sbc  anD  1bc/'  239 

"I  would  tell  you,  darling,  if  I  were  dead, 
And   'twere   your   hot   tears   upon    my   brow 
shed, — 

"  I  would  say,  though  the  Angel  of  Death  had 

laid 
His  sword  on  my  lips  to  keep  it  unsaid. 

"  You  should  not   ask  vainly,   with   streaming 

eyes, 
Which  of  all  deaths  was  the  chiefest  surprise, 

"  The  very  strangest  and  suddenest  thing 
Of  all  the  surprises  that  dying  must  bring." 

Ah,  foolish  world  ;  O  most  kind  dead ! 
Though  he  told  me,  who  will  believe  it  was 
said  ? 

Who  will  believe  that  he  heard  her  say, 

With  the  sweet,  soft  voice,  in  the  dear  old  way  : 

"The  utmost  wonder  is  this, — I  hear 

And  see  you,  and  love  you,  and  kiss  you,  dear  ; 

"  And  am  your  angel,  who  was  your  bride. 
And  know  that,    though  dead,  I    have   never 
died." 


